MonRosalee's Playlist
by WolfStar4
Summary: Song-based ficlets for MonRosalee. Mostly fluff, nothing terribly heavy. Also contains a series of past lives. Rated T for language. Suggestions/Requests welcome!
1. Not Your Fault

___Song-based drabbles of MonRosalee. Suggestions welcome! _

___I don't own the song, the characters, NBC, the show, or the actors. If I did, it would quickly become the MonRosalee Fluff Hour._

* * *

_She was built with a brain and some swagger,_

_A little scream, little cry, little laugher._

_She's a ten, I'm a joke in my own mind,_

_But she still loves to dance with my punch lines._

_This love found us, now I see it._

_This love, up, down, please believe._

_Baby, when I'm yelling at you,_

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And baby, 'cause I'm crazy for you, _

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And maybe I'm a little confused,_

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And baby, it's a wonderful news, _

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_Oh, it's not that you should care, I just wanted you to know._

_I'mma fight with myself 'til I'm bleeding;_

_Just a taste of your skin starts the healing._

_Anyone from my past, get your ammo, _

_Find my sun in the dark side of my shadow._

_This love found us, now I see it._

_This love, up, down, please believe._

_Baby, when I'm yelling at you,_

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And baby, 'cause I'm crazy for you, _

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And maybe I'm a little confused,_

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_And baby, it's a wonderful news, _

_It's not your fault, it's not your fault, yeah._

_Oh, it's not that you should care, I just wanted you to know…_

He had planned to take her out for her birthday. He obsessed over it for almost a month, where he would take her, what he would give her. All the details had fallen into place, only to be dashed by the Grimm with the world's worst timing. Nick and Hank had uncovered an operation in Portland where some Ziegevolk were trafficking human females to other Wesen. The woman could be bought by the highest bidder, no questions asked. Juliette had volunteered to be brought in by Rosalee, and then Monroe was supposed to attempt to purchase her. While they managed to get the operation shut down and those responsible were jailed for kidnapping, the ensuing fight had resulted in Monroe being knocked unconscious. He had sustained a concussion that kept him in bed and in darkness for the better part of three days. Rosalee tended to him during her lunch break and after she had closed up the shop for the night.

When the vertigo and blurriness finally subsided and he was able to walk without losing his balance, he realized he had missed her birthday. He had not taken that realization well. Rosalee had heard him yelling at himself from downstairs and ran up to find him banging his head against his pillow (better than the wall, but still not a great thing to do for a recovering concussion patient) saying, "Damnit, damnit, damnit!" over and over.

She rushed over to him and took him in her arms (that was the only thing she could think of to make him stop flailing). When he had finally calmed down, she asked him what was wrong.

"I'm such a terrible boyfriend," he muttered, extracting himself from her embrace, refusing to meet her gaze, "I missed your birthday, I allowed myself to get hurt and you had to take care of me, and… gah!" He put his head in his hands.

"It's just a birthday…" she started, and he looked up at her. His eyes were shining, and she realized just how hard he was taking this.

"No. You deserve better. You deserve someone who not only remembers your birthday, but keeps themselves together enough to allow you to celebrate it… Please believe me, I did have something planned, I really did… And I have something for you, if you still want it…"

She took him into her arms again, noticing his tense muscles. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "That isn't true and you know it. I know that you didn't forget. Hell, knowing you, you probably were planning something three weeks in advance. And you couldn't have known that other Blutbad would throw that table at you. I'm just relieved you're still here with me. However, throwing yourself around is probably not the best thing you could be doing right now. If you intentionally hurt yourself, THEN we'll discuss about what a terrible boyfriend you are, got it?" He nodded and relaxed into her embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I just don't want to mess this up. Sometimes I feel like you're so far out of my league, and I'm, well…" She cut him off pressing her lips to his. She tried to pour everything she had into that kiss- how much she adored him, appreciated him, needed him, loved him. She loved him.

When they parted, they looked into each other's eyes for a few moments. She smiled and nuzzled his cheek.

"So, uh, you want your present? It isn't wrapped…"

"Sure." He got up and walked over to his dresser, from which he carefully extracted a box. He brought it back to her. She opened the box to find a mountain of tissue paper. Moving it aside, she gasped and carefully pulled out a piece of stained glass the size of a large sun catcher. Not just any stained glass, though, this featured the detail of a wolf and a fox snuggled together, the wolf's tail curled protectively around the fox. Rosalee felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't received a gift this beautiful, this thoughtful, in years. She carefully put it back in the box and set it on his nightstand. She embraced him again, wiping her tears away on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "I really do love you. So, so much." She pulled away and kissed him again. "You really have no idea what that means to me."

"So you're not mad?"

She shook her head. "And even if I were, what girl in her right mind would say no to a gift like that?" They sat for a moment smiling at each other. The romantic moment was interrupted by the rumble of his stomach. She laughed as he smiled sheepishly. "Let's get you something to eat. You haven't had a solid meal in the better part of three days. You can take me out Friday night, deal?" She helped him up.

"Deal. And hopefully Nick will actually let me take you out this time…"

* * *

_Song: Not Your Fault by AWOLNATION. From the album Megalithic Symphony, copyright 2011, Red Bull Records._


	2. I'll Keep Your Secrets

_I don't own the song, the show, the characters, or the actors. I wish I did, though._

* * *

_Lost in your dark, I see you there._

_What do you see beyond your stare,_

_And you believe that no one else can know?_

_What is this thing you keep inside,_

_Out of the light and wrapped in pride;_

_Always afraid that one day it will show?_

_I'll keep your secrets. I'll hold your ground. _

_And when the darkness starts to fall,_

_I'll be around there waiting, _

_When dreams are fading_

_And friends are distant and few;_

_Know at that moment I'll be there with you._

She knows he has a past. She has one, too. They have revealed pieces of their lives to each other, bit by bit. But she knows he is holding something back, something major. Something big had to happen for him to become this neurotic, this strict with himself. But what?

_What are these voices that you hear?_

_Are they too far, or far too near?_

_What are these things that echo from the past?_

_Who are these ghosts you see at night,_

_There in the shadow of your life?_

_They only live by the light you cast._

_I'll keep your secrets. I'll hold your ground. _

_And when the darkness starts to fall,_

_I'll be around there waiting, _

_When dreams are fading_

_And friends are distant and few;_

_Know at that moment I'll be there with you._

It became more apparent when they started sharing a bed. He cries out in the night, yelling things she can't understand. A few of the repeated words sound like names, but she can't be absolutely sure. Something terrible happened that he was forced to relive in his mind and in his dreams, and all she can do is hold him; hold him and hope that, somewhere in his subconscious, his dream-self would know he is safe and loved.

_I'll be around when there's no reason left to carry on,_

_And every dream you've ever had is gone;_

_And the dark is deep and black without a sound;_

_And every star has been dragged to the ground;_

_Know at that moment, I will be around._

_Know at that moment, I will be around._

When he is ready to tell, she will be ready to listen. And she will be there for him, no matter what.

* * *

_Song: I'll Keep Your Secrets by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. From the album Beethoven's Last Night, copyright 2000, Warner Music Group/ Atlantic Records._


	3. I Get A Rush

_Requests welcome! I don't own the song, the show, the characters, the actors, Silas Weir Mitchell or Jon Bon Jovi. I don't have that kind of luck._

* * *

_Every day of my life has been leading me here tonight;  
Feels like I'm coming home back to you, back to you.  
Every chance that I take,  
Every wrong turn and every mistake,  
Is a step on the road back to you,  
And I'm alive!_

_I like it, I like it, I can't get enough!  
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush!  
I like what I like and I like it too much!  
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush_

Nick was seriously thinking about going to the trailer and finding something to clock Monroe over the head with. Actually, speaking of clocks, he was starting to consider using one of them; goodness knows Monroe has plenty, he won't miss one.

Monroe wouldn't stop fidgeting. And now he was pacing. Pacing and fidgeting. He was looking at the clocks every five minutes or so, comparing the times (even though they were perfectly in sync. Of course they were in sync), trying to see if they were slow. If Monroe didn't calm himself down… Now Hank and Bud were at the door, so at least Monroe would stop pacing for a bit. Maybe.

_And my goal, I see you. You're as close as the hole in my shoe.  
And when I'm feeling used, I'm renewed, I get high.  
I can fly, I've got wings.  
I've got riches that money can't bring  
I've got more than a king; I've got you,  
And baby, that's alright._

_I like it, I like it, I can't get enough!  
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush!  
I like what I like and I like it too much!  
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush  
From you, everything you do!  
I call it love. _

Monroe was still glancing at the clocks, now seemingly every 30 seconds as Nick, Hank, and Bud finished getting ready. Monroe had been ready for hours. He'd been ready when Nick arrived with coffee and doughnuts, but he was just a big ball of nervous energy. He couldn't stand or sit still long enough to eat anything, and his hands were shaking too much to drink. It was almost as if he had gone on a week-long espresso bender and all the shakes and tremors were coming at once. Nick thought back to his own wedding day, and finally mentally offered a reprieve to his friend. He had been a lot less put together than Monroe was, and had made Hank and Monroe deal with a lot more that day than not eating and fidgeting. Monroe was thrilled to be getting married today. Whenever he had spoken about the wedding, he affected the maniacal level of sheer childlike glee he usually reserved for Halloween and Christmas while Rosalee good-naturedly rolled her eyes. Juliette thought it was adorable.

_Yeah, I get a rush, I get a rush  
Every day of my life has been leading me here tonight;  
And wherever I roam I'm heading back home to you,  
Back to you._

There was a knock on the door. The photographer had arrived. Monroe bounded out the door with Bud on his heels, trying to keep up. Hank smiled as he and Nick closed the door behind them.

"I'm glad he's so excited! I was really hoping we wouldn't have to deal with cold feet. He's actually… kind of like a big puppy, isn't he?"

"A big puppy that will rip our throats out if we get between him and Rosalee. We better not keep him waiting." They shared a laugh and went to catch up with the groom.

* * *

_Song: I Get A Rush by Bon Jovi. From the boxed set 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can't Be Wrong, copyright 2004, Island Records._


	4. Next To Me

_I realize a few things about myself writing these: I like damaged characters, and I like putting them in shmoopy situations so they can be wuvved. _

_I decided to go a little less shmoopy here. Be warned: There is some minimal Twilight-bashing. I read all the books but I couldn't get past the first movie, and watching the fight scene to write this (I remembered something about it from the reviews) cracked me the hell up. So if you like Twilight, uh, sorry. _

_If you have a song you would like me to write a story around, leave it in the reviews or send me a message. Thanks!_

_I don't own the song, NBC, the show, or the actors. If I did, the Grimm-Scoobies would totally start a bar band. _

* * *

_You won't find him drinking at the tables,_

_Rolling dice and staying out til three._

_You won't ever find him bein' unfaithful._

_You will find him, you'll find him next to me._

_You won't find him trying to chase the Devil _

_For money, fame, for power, out of greed._

_You won't ever find him where the rest go;_

_You will find him, you'll find him next to me._

Nick, Juliette, Rosalee, and Monroe were having dinner at the Wolf Den (the affectionate codename for Monroe's house) when it came up. Juliette had been roped into watching a Twilight marathon with her nieces and was complaining about how terrible it was. The group was laughing and joking when, suddenly serious, Juliette dared them to watch the movies. They were all a little tipsy, and it was a long weekend for Memorial Day, so they decided it would be fun. They decided since plot wasn't really that important they would watch the last two movies_, Breaking Dawn_ and _Breaking Dawn 2: Electric Boogaloo_, as Nick called it.

They had a great time, treating it very much like _Rocky Horror,_ yelling at the screen, and actually sat through both of the movies. Monroe objected profusely to the portrayal of werewolves, especially the idea of "imprinting," and the major plot point involving Jacob imprinting made him shudder in disgust, but he still stayed and watched.

They found the fight scene at the end of the last movie particularly, hilariously awful. They had laughed raucously at the climax, when Edward whipped Bella around and thrown her. It capped off a great night.

_When the money's spent and all my friends have vanished,_

_And I can't seem to find no help or love for free,_

_I know there's no need for me to panic,_

_'Cause I'll find him, I'll find him next to me._

_When the skies are gray and all the doors are closing, _

_And the rising pressure makes it hard to breathe,_

_When all I need's a hand to stop the tears from fallin',_

_I will find him, I'll find him next to me. _

A few weeks after watching _Breaking Dawn_, Monroe and Rosalee were helping Nick and Hank track down some Skalengeck. The Skalengeck found them first, and handcuffed them together and then, with another pair, handcuffed Monroe to a pipe. Monroe waited until they were out of earshot and then started laughing.

"REALLY?" Rosalee wasn't quite sure why this was so amusing, but the fact that he was laughing so hard while she was trying to come up with a plan was not helping. At that moment, he woged and broke the handcuff attaching him to the wall.

"Yeah, really. If you have a Fuchsbau and a Blutbad and one set of handcuffs, ALWAYS cuff the Fuchsbau. Duh." She took a moment to register, but Rosalee soon joined Monroe, giggling. It was true, Fuchsbau were crafty and clever, but paragons of brute strength they were not.

"However, we're still cuffed together," she said when she had stopped laughing.

"I think we'll be okay to escape, though. I mean, it's not like I can't stand being close to you or anything… this is kinda hot, don't you think?" He smiled as she rolled her eyes.

"And what will we do if they find us?" she inquired.

He was quiet for a moment. "Remember in _Breaking Dawn: Electric Boogaloo_ when Sparkly Dude swung his wife around? I can easily bench-press you, so if you want to just start kicking if your feet leave the ground, I'll steer. Does that sound good?"

"As long as you're grabbing my forearms and not my wrists, yeah, that should work."

The fight plan worked like a charm- Skalengeck are not particularly strong, so with Rosalee kicking as Monroe swung her, the warehouse now had some Skalengeck-shaped dents in the wall.

They finally were able to rendezvous with Nick, who was able to unlock them, but they couldn't wait to tell Juliette about how _Breaking Dawn 2: Electric Boogaloo _had saved them.

_When the end has come and buildings fallin' down fast,_

_When we've spoilt the land and dried up all the sea,_

_When everyone has lost their head around us,_

_You will find him, you'll find him next to me._

About a week later, Rosalee and Monroe were cuddling on the couch when she shot up and pulled out her phone.

"I just remembered something..." She opened YouTube and pulled up a music video.

"Aaliyah?" he questioned as the video began.

"Yeah, I really liked her music before she died, but I was thinking about last week and fighting while handcuffed, and it made me think of this... It's at the end, though."

He looked disappointed. "It wasn't because you wanted to wear that outfit? Because I would be totally okay with that..."  
She giggled. "I'll think about it."

Toward the end of the video, Jet Li helped Aaliyah up onto the wall, so their two linked bodies stood perpendicular-his feet on the floor, hers on the wall. He supported her as she fought gravity, and they were able to dance. They did a strange semi-tango and then he helped her down.

"You wanna try that?" Monroe asked when the video finished. Rosalee could see him calculating in his head.

"Maybe. Could be fun."

He thought another moment. "I'm game; we just need to find a sturdy wall to work with. And we need to find you an outfit like that... Ow! Unnecessary!" He laughed as she punched his arm.

* * *

_Song: Next to Me by Emeli Sandé. From the album Our Version of Events, copyright 2012, Virgin Records._

_The video in question is for Try Again by Aaliyah. Copyright 2000, Blackground Records._


	5. Keep Me In Your Heart

_Trigger warning: Character death. _

_I don't own the song, the characters, NBC, the show, or the actors. _

_Prepare your feels._

* * *

_Shadows are falling, and I'm running out of breath,  
Keep me in your heart for awhile.  
If I leave you, it doesn't mean I love you any less;  
Keep me in your heart for awhile._

Rosalee awoke to a shuddering gasp. It took some maneuvering, but she turned herself over to face her husband of nearly forty years. She nudged him, and he opened his eyes weakly. Monroe had been sick for a long time, but he had firmly stated he wished to die at home. His home. Their home. The home where he had embarked on the greatest and most satisfying adventures of his life- taking a chance on befriending a Grimm, which led him to the beautiful Fuchsbau he made his bride. It was the home where they raised their three children and entertained eight grandchildren, Nick and Juliette's children, and many of the neighborhood kids. The home that had been almost destroyed so many times, and each time rebuilt stronger, tougher.

He reached for her and she gently rested her head on his chest. She felt his heart beating softly. His lips ghosted her forehead.

"Thank you," he croaked, weakly, "for everything. For loving me, for giving me a family. I love you so very much. I'm sorry to leave you with so much left undone…" he trailed off.

"Wait for me?" she asked quietly. He nodded resolutely, and they both drifted off to sleep.

_When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun,  
Keep me in your heart for awhile.  
There's a train leaving nightly called "when all is said and done";  
Keep me in your heart for awhile._

Rosalee woke up to find her husband's heart beat no more. She called to Sophia, their oldest, who was staying in one of the guest bedrooms. Sophia had remained in Portland, taking over the spice shop; she had married one of the Burkhardt boys, Neil, and they had five of the eight grandchildren. She looked like her mother, but was a Blutbad like her father; Neil was starting to show signs of being a Grimm and following in his father's footsteps as well. Sophia's younger siblings, Keith and Kelly, the twins, were living in Montana and Virginia, respectively; however, they knew the situation and were on call. Keith and Kelly were Fuchsbau, and Monroe swore that that was one of the greatest blessings in his life, to not be the father to twin Blutbaden. Sophie helped her mother out of bed and started making phone calls. Rosalee just sat staring at her husband. While she had been prepared for this, she still wept. She hadn't felt so alone in years.

The day after they got engaged, Monroe and Rosalee had gone to a lawyer to set up things like living wills and figure out their last wishes. Neither of them had family they would trust the decision-making to, and every eventuality needed to be accounted for. And every year, like clockwork, Monroe would call or visit the law office to update. Add beneficiary, Sophia. Add guardians, Nick and Juliette Burkhardt. Add beneficiaries, Keith and Kelly. And so on. At this point, there was really nothing to plan. They had reserved a plot in the cemetery overlooking a lovely patch of woods, had chosen a headstone. All that the stone needed were dates. Everything was paid for for both of them; they didn't know where this whirlwind life solving crime with the Grimm would take them, and they wanted to make sure that everything was taken care of. There was nothing to plan, so that day was spent receiving a steady stream of visitors and waiting for Keith, Kelly, and their respective broods. Some of the Eisbiber neighbors brought pies, and, even though it was mid-March, a plethora of small pumpkins appeared on the porch, tribute to the man behind the best Halloween house in the neighborhood. But Rosalee spent most of the day hobbling around the house; she could not stop seeing him everywhere.

_Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house,  
Maybe you'll think of me and smile.  
You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse;  
Keep me in your heart for awhile._

There he was in the bathroom, pacing, waiting to find out if the little stick would say "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant". There he was by his desk, Sophia on his lap, showing her how the cuckoo in a cuckoo clock worked. There he was, in the kitchen, experimenting with God-knows-what on the stove. There he was in the backyard, letting his kids dogpile on top of him. Rosalee wondered if this was what Juliette had experienced when all her memories came back at once that long ago time.

Juliette and Nick stopped by. Rosalee had managed to keep it together most of the day, but broke down and wept in the arms of her friends and in-laws. Nick brought them together. They stood together and wept for the loss of a dearly loved friend.

After all relatives were accounted for, as the sky darkened, Rosalee excused herself and shut herself in their… her… room. Her bed felt cold and empty, and she felt like there was a hole in her heart. She looked at the photographs around their room, studying each one, remembering.

The largest was their wedding portrait. They looked so young then, even though they were older than most who were marrying for the first time. A picture from the Burkhardt wedding. There were pictures in the hospital with Sophia, Keith and Kelly, pictures of sports banquets, recitals, vacations, field trips, graduations, weddings, grandchildren, holidays… so many photographs, so many smiles…

She sat on her bed, willing the tears to come for her lost love. But no tears would come. She took one framed picture off her nightstand. This was always her favorite. She and Monroe standing, kissing, while their three children, ages 8 and 5, stood around them making disgusted faces. Rosalee laid back on the bed looking at the picture.

_Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams,  
Touch me as I fall into view.  
When the winter comes, keep the fires lit  
And I will be right next to you._

As she laid there, she became aware that she was not alone. She looked up, and he was there, in his usual spot on his side of the bed. He looked just as he did the day they married, healthy and strong. She felt no fear; she reached out to touch him, and she felt warmth. Her hand was not shaking for the first time in she had no idea how long. Come to think of it, her knees weren't hurting anymore, either… She looked at her hands; they were smooth and strong. He smiled at her.

"You asked me to wait for you. Now it's time to go home, my love." He appeared next to her and took her hand. She stood and embraced him. She saw her own body on the bed, clutching the photograph.

"Where are we going?" she asked. He smiled so radiantly. Their room filled with light.

"No idea, but we're going together." They shared a kiss and walked, hand in hand, into the light.

Sophia found her mother's body around midnight when she went to check on her. The photo Rosalee had been holding when she died became the centerpiece to the celebration of their lives, a celebration of their love and all it had created. The fox and the wolf were never to be separated again.

* * *

_Song: Keep Me In Your Heart by Warren Zevon. From the album The Wind, copyright 2003, Artemis Records._

_I apologize, but I needed to write this. __RIP Warren Zevon._


	6. The Waiting

_This is a moment pulled from "Keep Me In Your Heart" and expanded upon. I also make reference to Entzünden, which was central to my (M-rated smut) fic "Heat". If you don't care to read smut, in my mind Fuchsbau, like actual foxes, have a period of going into heat in January. Add the human element, and logically there would be a baby boom in the Fuchsbau community each September. However, also due to the human element, they can get pregnant at other times, but those chances are a little slimmer. _

_I don't own the song, the show, NBC, or the characters. But apparently I own enough free time to look up the mating habits of foxes. *Shrug*_

* * *

_Oh baby, don't it feel like heaven right now? _

_Don't it feel like something from a dream?_

_Yeah, I've never known nothin' quite like this;_

_Don't it feel like the night might never be again?_

_We know better than to try and pretend,_

_Baby, no one could've ever told me 'bout this._

_I said yeah yeah (yeah yeah) yeah yeah yeah yeah_

_The waiting is the hardest part;_

_Every day you see one more card._

_You take it on faith, you take it to the heart, _

_The waiting is the hardest part._

"Are you okay, love?" Monroe asked his wife. They were eating dinner on a Friday night, and Rosalee suddenly looked a little green. She took a few deep breaths, but her color didn't improve. "Is something wrong with your veggie steak? Didn't I cook it the way you like it?"

Rosalee couldn't answer because she felt her meal rising up in the back of her throat. The bathroom felt too far away, so she ran over to the garbage can and emptied her stomach. Monroe held her hair and rubbed her back as she heaved. When she was finished, Monroe kept rubbing her back. "Noted."

"Sorry, it was fine, but suddenly it smelled weird and…" She dry-heaved at the memory.

He went over to her plate and sniffed it. "It smells okay to me… however, come to think of it, you've smelled different these past few days. I thought you may have changed your perfume or something…" he trailed off. They looked at each other for a moment, then both started talking at once.

"Do you think you're…" "Do you think I'm…"

"When was your last…" "Let me get my calendar."

"How long have you felt…" "See, I haven't been feeling well…"

Rosalee found her planner, where she annotated each of her periods with a red dot. She had been off contraceptives for about six months, since they decided they were ready to try for a baby. They realized she was about three weeks late.

"I thought I was coming down with something…"

He was quiet for a moment. "Well, should we get a pregnancy test? I'm sorry, this is kinda unfamiliar territory to me…"

She thought for a moment. "The home pregnancy tests aren't made for Wesen women- our added hormones make them give false positives. However, if we stop at the shop, I know a way to sort of pre-treat the stick so it ignores the non-human hormones and gives a more accurate reading. The trade-off is that instead of taking two minutes for a positive/negative reading, it takes about 10."

"Would you rather wait and see your doctor?"

Rosalee shook her head. The movement made her turn green again. She stopped and took a few more deep breaths. "No. Doctor Julliard's office is closed on Mondays, and I don't know how busy she'll be; it is September after all..." Monroe remembered that, since Fuchsbau women had their Entzünden in January, many of them would be getting ready to have their kits. Dr. Julliard was one of the OBGYNs in Portland that specialized in Fuchsbau reproductive issues; She was going to have her hands full.

"Okay, I'll get your coat. We'll go to the drug store and then we'll stop by the shop."

_Well, yeah, I might've chased a couple women around,_

_All it ever got me was down._

_But then there were those that made me feel good,_

_But never as good as I'm feelin' right now._

_Baby, you're the only one who's ever known how_

_To make me wanna live like I wanna live now, _

_I said yeah yeah (yeah yeah) yeah yeah yeah yeah_

_The waiting is the hardest part;_

_Every day you get one more yard._

_You take it on faith, you take it to the heart, _

_The waiting is the hardest part._

They picked up a double pack of pregnancy tests and headed over to the shop. The rush of scents when they opened the door made Rosalee lose anything she had left in her stomach on the sidewalk. She couldn't make herself go in, so she sat on the stoop and called ingredients in to Monroe, who gathered them in a basket.

When they got home, Rosalee laid down on the couch and coached Monroe through the mashing and the mixing. When the concoction was done it turned a yellow color. Rosalee unwrapped the pregnancy tests and dipped them in the mixture. "Now they have to dry," she stated. Thankfully that didn't take that long. When they finished, Monroe helped her up and they went into the bathroom.

_Don't let it kill you, babe. Don't let it get to you._

_Don't let it kill you, babe. Don't let it get to you._

_I'll be your bleedin' heart, I'll be your quiet fool,_

_Don't let this go too far, don't let it get to you._

The next ten minutes felt like an eternity to Monroe. He paced back and forth silently as Rosalee sat on the toilet seat, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the two sticks sitting on the sink.

He finally stopped pacing and sat on the tub and took her hand. "Whatever happens, I love you. You know that, right?" She nodded. "If it's positive, we are going to be awesome parents…"

"And if it's negative?" she asked.

"Well, then you're about to be hit by the flu from Hell, so we need to be ready for that. But we can keep trying… I don't object to trying multiple more times…" He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She looked up, away from the tests, and into his eyes. They both smiled and he gave her hand a squeeze. Then they both stood, looking down at the sink as the tests started reacting. Blue lines appeared in the control windows. This particular test made a horizontal blue line across if it was negative and a sort of plus sign of intersecting lines if positive. Rosalee clutched his hand as the lines started to appear…

Two plus signs. They were going to be parents. They were going to be parents!

Rosalee squealed and Monroe enveloped her in a big hug, kissing whatever he could reach. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet when she realized that she was crying. Looking into her husband's eyes, he was crying, too. Crying, laughing, and holding her close. They were going to be parents!

When the initial joy subsided, Rosalee pulled her husband close and put his hand on her stomach. There was yet to be a noticeable bump or any movement, but just knowing that, somewhere in there, was a little creature growing, the product of an unlikely love between a Blutbad and a Fuchsbau, made Rosalee start crying again. Monroe kissed her tears away.

"We're having a pup! Or a kit! Who cares, it's OURS!" He could have lit a city block with his smile.

They stayed up long into the night, talking about seemingly a thousand different things, and fell asleep with her head on his chest, and his arm protectively wrapped around her waist.

_Yeah, the waiting is the hardest part._

* * *

_Song: The Waiting by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. From the album Hard Promises, copyright 1981, Backstreet Records. _


	7. I See The Light

_Fair warning: I am projecting myself in this story. I'm going on my first trip to Disney World in October. I am super-excited. So why not? It took me a few days of marinating the idea to figure out which song I wanted to go with, but in the end I decided "A Whole New World" was a little too much. _

_Reviews/Requests/Suggestions always appreciated!_

_I don't own the song, Disney, Disney World, the show, the characters, NBC or anything like that. I just own my excitement at finally going to "Didney Worl". _

* * *

_All those days watching from the windows,_

_All those years outside looking in;_

_All that time never even knowing _

_Just how blind I've been._

_Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight._

_Now I'm here, suddenly I see._

_Standing here, it's all so clear,_

_I'm where I'm meant to be._

_And at last I see the light,_

_And it's like a fog has lifted._

_And at last I see the light,_

_And it's like the sky is new,_

_And it's warm and real and bright,_

_And the world has somehow shifted._

_All at once, everything looks different_

_Now that I see you. _

"What do you mean you've never been? What is wrong with your parents? What kind of childhood did you have?" Rosalee was incredulous.

Monroe's face darkened slightly. "My parents were smart enough to realize that going on spree in one of the busiest places on Earth was probably a bad idea. Remember, I'm the only Wieder in the family, the black wolf if you will. It never came up, and after I moved out here I just kind of forgot about it."

"We must fix that. NOW. That's where we're going on vacation; I am taking you to Disney World. We're going to wear ear hats and ride everything and see parades and fireworks and have Mickey ice cream bars and…"

"Rosalee. Breathe. Is that really where you want to go? I thought you wanted to go on that Alaska cruise…"

"No. You HAVE to go. It's one of those places you have to go before you die. My parents used to take us every few years; I haven't been in a while, but I have a lot of great memories. Trust me, you'll love it! As much as you love Halloween and Christmas, you'll LOVE it!" Rosalee was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Monroe looked at his girlfriend, and his face softened considerably at her excitement.

"You really want to do this instead of going to Alaska?"

"Yes! You will love it, I promise!" She clasped her hands together in a way that made her look like a child begging. How could he say no to that?

"…If it's what you want, let's do it." She squealed, clapped her hands, and scurried off to get her computer.

They spent a lot of the rest of the night discussing their trip and weighing options. They decided, after much deliberation, to go in early October. The crowds wouldn't be as intense, and they could go to the Food and Wine Festival at Epcot and the Halloween Party in Magic Kingdom. Monroe didn't seem fully on board until Rosalee mentioned adults were allowed to dress up for the Halloween party as well. After that, he was pretty sold. They chose their resort and discussed their options. Monroe suggested sleeping on it to make sure it was what they wanted, however, now they were both so excited that there was no way they weren't going. There was no turning back now.

_All those days chasing down a daydream,_

_All those years living in a blur._

_All that time never truly seeing _

_Things the way there were._

_Now she's here, shining in the starlight._

_Now she's here, suddenly I know._

_If she's here, it's crystal clear_

_I'm where I'm meant to go._

_And at last I see the light,_

_And it's like a fog has lifted._

_And at last I see the light,_

_And it's like the sky is new,_

_And it's warm and real and bright,_

_And the world has somehow shifted._

_All at once, everything looks different_

_Now that I see you. _

Monroe loved Disney more than he (or, for that matter, Rosalee) thought possible. He marveled at the details and intricacies around every corner, and genuinely enjoyed hugging the characters, especially Alice and the Mad Hatter. What he wasn't too thrilled about was Rosalee kept putting Mickey ears on his head after she had chosen hers, a rather girly "Pirate Princess" pair. She thought they were adorable and claimed them with certainty. He found the pair that spoke to him while browsing around the Germany pavilion in Epcot on their second day after treating Rosalee to a "real" beer. He was remarking about the food and the details when they found a pair of Germany ears. He thought they were too funny to pass up with the lederhosen detail. He wore them every day for the rest of the trip except for the Halloween party.

Oh, the Halloween party. They couldn't decide on what to wear as a couple, so Monroe wore his skeleton suit while Rosalee dug out an old Snow White costume. Monroe also insisted on riding the Haunted Mansion what felt like 50 times, each time pointing out a new detail or something else to fascinate him. He especially loved the details in the graveyard set piece, and kept humming "Grim Grinning Ghosts" the rest of the night. He couldn't remember ever being allowed to be a kid like this, and he loved every minute of it.

When they got home to Portland and unpacked their bags, he came up behind her and hugged her close.

"Thank you. That was the most fun I think I've ever had."

"So you liked it?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Yeah, but I have a really serious question to ask you… when can we go back?"

* * *

_Song: I See the Light by Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi. From the Tangled Original Soundtrack, copyright 2010, Walt Disney Records._


	8. Mountain Sound

_So my last drabble was admittedly a little strange, but thank you for trusting me and continuing to read. All the research/planning I've been doing needed an outlet. So as your reward for coming to this chapter, you get a Past Life/AU fic. YAY! Are you excited? I'm excited._

_Requests/Suggestions/Reviews welcome!_

_I don't own the song, the show, the characters, NBC, etc. If I did, Nick would stop cockblocking Monroe._

_Edit: Forgot to put the song information at the end. Eerps. The school year is almost over, so I'll be able to post more._

* * *

_I heard them calling in the distance, _

_So I packed my things and ran_

_Far away from all the trouble_

_I had caused with my two hands._

_Alone we travelled on with nothing but a shadow._

_We fled far away._

**Kingdom of Germany, roughly 1100 AD**

He ran swiftly through the underbrush. He could smell the mob behind him, the smoke of their torches, their fear, their anger. They were coming for him. He had chosen the wrong victim, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He couldn't help himself; he was hungry. He couldn't hold back anymore, he had to feed. He wasn't thinking clearly, otherwise he would not have gone after the Magistrate's new bride. He tried to stick to drifters and travelers, people the townsfolk wouldn't miss. But he couldn't help himself. He now fled away from his little thatched home into the wood while they chased after him. They had always feared the quiet, quirky man, but he was the best furrier in the town, able to procure skins of difficult-to-trap animals such as bears and foxes. The only pelts he would not deal in were those of wolves. The children had long ago started rumors of witchcraft to the nursemaids, who gossiped to the milkmaids, who gossiped to the barmaids, who gossiped to whomever would offer them a sip and a warm lap (and perhaps, if the price was right, a little something more). Then the Magistrate's new wife went missing. Somebody had seen the furrier, covered in blood, running from the place where they found her body. Her neck had been broken, and she looked as if she had been attacked by a hungry bear. He was clearly in league with the Devil, and he had to burn.

_Hold your horses now (sleep until the sun goes down)._

_Through the woods we ran (deep into the mountain sound)._

_Hold your horses now (sleep until the sun goes down)._

_Through the woods we ran._

Fortunately the furrier's stamina and speed outmatched the townsfolks'. Eventually they tired and went back to their village; they burned his accursed home and shop and had the Vicar bless the ground that clearly had been visited by the Devil. If he ever came back, they would burn him, too.

Well, almost everyone tired of the chase. One kept following. Her speed was not as great as his, but she could track his every move. She had to find him. He had to know he was not alone. She followed him up the mountain and into a camp of Estraxarja. Fortunately for the furrier and his tracker, the camp was large, and, this particular evening there was a large wedding celebration with beer and wines flowing freely while the gypsies danced and sang around many large bonfires. They'd be safe long enough to figure out what to do next, at any rate.

_Some had scars and some had scratches,_

_It made me wonder about their past._

_And as I looked around, I began to notice_

_We were nothing like the rest. _

_Hold your horses now (sleep until the sun goes down)._

_Through the woods we ran (deep into the mountain sound)._

_Hold your horses now (sleep until the sun goes down)._

_Through the woods we ran._

_We sleep until the sun goes down._

She found him as he sat staring into the fire. She approached him slowly, making sure to stay in his sight-line as to not spook him. She sat next to him quietly, and waited for his gaze to meet hers. When it did, she changed without a word. Her eyes shone golden and lovely, soft red fur sprouted. His eyes widened, and then he changed, too. Red eyes, sharp teeth, pointed features. By the firelight, they eyed each other and then shifted back. He relaxed visibly. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. He squeezed hers back. Every logical impulse he had fought against what every muscle, every nerve, every fiber of his being was telling him, what he knew in his heart: he was safe with her.

_We sleep until the sun goes…_

* * *

_Song: Mountain Sound by Of Monsters and Men. From the album My Head Is An Animal, copyright 2012, Republic Records._


	9. You Were Born

_While it was kinda hilarious to see Monroe freaking out and getting his hand broken in Endangered, I hardly think that's how he'd be if it was his kid and Rosalee was giving birth. So I wrote more shmoop. Yay, shmoop! _

_Also, I need them to make a canon explanation of Wesen genetics. Yes, I'm that nerd who wants the Punnett Square of how an interspecies Wesen kid would turn out... also, earlier in the series they imply that child Wesen don't really manifest until they're like 8 or 9, but in Endangered the baby was glowing? Anyway, I'm going with the later, where the baby gives some kind of indication when it's born what it will be. I'm also working off a normal Punnett Square and assuming and child Monroe and Rosalee have will have a 50/50 shot ending up Blutbad or Fuchsbau... you know what, I'm stalling. Story! _

_Requests/Suggestions/Reviews welcome. Once I grade finals, I will have more time to write. I want to work on something for Monrosalee, who gave me a couple excellent suggestions, but I'm waiting for a proper story to fit them..._

_I don't own anything except this giant stack of finals I'm trying to avoid grading._

* * *

_You were born into a strange world._

_Like a candle, you were meant to share the fire._

_I don't know where we come from, _

_And I don't know where we go,_

_But my arms were made to hold you,_

_So I will never let you go._

_'Cause you were born to change this life._

_You were born to chase the light._

_You were born._

Monroe stood next to the hospital bed as Rosalee grasped his hand. He momentarily had a flashback of helping a Glühenvolk give birth, but he pushed that out of his mind and concentrated on helping his wife. They had both agreed that he should stay away from "the business end" (as he called it), so he was coaching her breathing, keeping her hair out of her face, and letting her break his hand… but oddly, he barely noticed his pain, as he was more focused on hers. He hated to see her hurt, especially when he felt like it was his fault.

"One more big push should do it! You're almost there!" Doctor Julliard called from her position around Rosalee's knees. Rosalee took a deep breath, squeezed Monroe's hand once more, and pushed with all she had left. The next moment, Dr. Julliard was holding a wet, squirmy little thing that was flailing around.

"Congratulations, it's a girl! And I didn't get a great look, but I think she might be a Blutbad like Daddy!" Rosalee smiled and let go of her husband to reach for her daughter. Monroe brushed a stray, sweaty lock of hair from his wife's forehead and watched his wife feed his daughter, skin to skin, building a strong bond. His girls, his beautiful girls.

_Love your mother, yeah, she's a good one._

_She'll build you armor, keep you warm as a hen._

_The stars may fall, the rains may pour,_

_But I will love you evermore._

_You were born to make this right._

_You were born to chase the light. _

_You were born._

A little while later, after they had named the child (Sophia) and she had been fed, burped, and swaddled, Rosalee offered the tiny little being to Monroe. He accepted the child with a little trepidation; she was so tiny, so fragile, and he could break her in half. He knew he could, but he didn't want to. She was his, his and Rosalee's. They had created this little pup out of love, and he was going to love and protect this little girl the way he loved and protected her mother: with all his strength, until he breathed his very last.

Rosalee smiled as she watched her husband navigate holding the baby. He was such a big guy, but he was handling Sophia as if she were made of glass, gently, gently. It was adorable. Eventually he seemed to get a good enough grip on her that he could relax a little, and he looked deep into the child's eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a small flash of red against the dark blue.

_Oh, my precious, oh my love,_

_When they come to take me,I will hold you from above._

_I don't know why we're here, and I don't know how,_

_But I'm here with you now, I am here with you now._

_ 'Cause you were born to make this right. _

_'Cause you were born to change this life._

_'Cause you were born to chase the light._

_'Cause you were born…_

A few hour later, after the relatives and friends had been informed, Rosalee settled down for some well-deserved rest. Monroe walked slowly around the room, just staring in awe at his daughter. His daughter. It was still so weird. Weirder still, he felt the urge to talk to her. Well, maybe not that weird...

"Hi, honey," he started, quietly, not sure what exactly he wanted to say. He wanted to say everything he felt, but it all wanted to tumble out at once. "I'm so glad you're here. We've waited a long time for you. We're going to do our best to take good care of you. Us, and Uncle Nick and Aunt Juliette and Uncle Hank and Uncle Bud, we're going to keep you safe. You're our little princess, you know that? Yeah, Aunt Juliette has already promised to spoil you rotten, at least until they have a little girl. I think you're going to like Neil and Jacob, they're good kids. You're going to be a good kid, too. If you have even half your mother's brains and looks, I should invest in a shotgun now. Maybe Uncle Nick will let me have a crossbow from the trailer, too…" He felt himself rambling, but he didn't know if he cared enough to stop. All these emotions needed a place to go. He stopped walking and put his hand to Sophia's cheek. She was so tiny, his hand was bigger than her face; however, at that moment she reached out and grabbed his pinky and held on tight. She was strong for being mere hours old. Any part of him that was not a puddle of lovey mush on the floor, any part of him that was not wrapped around her little finger from the moment he first saw her now was entirely in her thrall. His new mission in life was to be the best Daddy in the world, and the best husband to the woman who had seen him fit enough to make him a father. His girls, his beautiful, wonderful girls.

* * *

_Song: The Baby- You Were Born by Cloud Cult. From the album Light Chasers, copyright 2010, the Rebel Group._


	10. People Like Us

_So I've kinda fallen in love with the idea of Monroe and Rosalee being lovers past lives as well, so there might be more of these. _

_As always, reviews/suggestions/requests welcome. I have to administer one more exam and grade two sections of short writings and then I am done for the summer! Yay!_

_I don't own the song, NBC, the show, the characters, or any of that fun stuff. If I did, there would totally be a "MonRosalee Have a Baby" storyline, because I think that would be awesome, hilarious, and sweet._

* * *

**Kingdom of Germany**

_We come into this world unknown,_

_But we are not alone._

_They try and knock us down,_

_But change is coming, our time is now. _

_Hey, everybody loses it._

_Everybody wants to throw it all away sometimes._

_And hey, yeah, I know what you're going through._

_Don't let it get the best of you, you'll make it out alive._

_People like us, we've gotta stick together;_

_Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever._

_Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten,_

_It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom._

_We are all misfits living in a world on fire._

_Sing it for the people like us, the people like us._

The Blutbad furrier introduced himself as Wolfram to Rosamunde, the Fuchsbau woman who had followed him. He couldn't be totally sure, but he thought he remembered seeing her working with the town's herbalist; Rosamunde would go into the forests and retrieve the plants. If it was in fact she, she had a fair amount of witchcraft rumors following her, too, which might explain why she was staying with him. They sat, gazing into the fire as the wedding feast continued around them. As the beer and wine started to run dry, the gypsies began to prepare for bed. The fires, so large and warm before, were slowly becoming smaller. Rosamunde took Wolfram's hand and whispered it was time to go. Wolfram didn't say it out loud, but he liked the warmth of her hand in his. Something about her made him want to follow her wherever she would lead him, even to certain death, just to be with her. Could this be what that word "liebe" meant? He had never really experienced it. His parents had been beheaded when he was small, and he had been stolen away by others in the pack, but they treated him like the orphan he was. But in this moment, he felt like he loved her. And the way she was looking and acting, she might love him, too.

_Hey, this is not a funeral._

_It's a revolution, after all your tears have turned to rage._

_Just wait, everything will be okay,_

_Even when you're feeling like it's going down in flames._

_People like us, we've gotta stick together;_

_Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever._

_Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten,_

_It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom._

_We are all misfits living in a world on fire._

_Sing it for the people like us, the people like us._

_You've just gotta turn it up loud when the flames get higher._

_Sing it for the people like us, the people like us._

Rosamunde and Wolfram crept quietly as they could through the camp. Now that the aura of celebration was fading, the camp was getting back to their normal routine. The fugitives stole a pair of full wineskins and were almost clear of the camp when they were spotted by one of the camp dogs. Wolfram slashed its throat for its trouble, but the damage was already done, the camp was coming back to furious, chaotic life. Wolfram and Rosamunde ran from the pandemonium, running for the second time that night with blades and blazes at their backs. Each was urged on only by the desire to see the other survive.

_They can't do nothin' to you, they can't do nothin' to me,_

_This is the life that we choose, this is the life that we bleed._

_So throw your fist in the air, come out, come out if you dare._

_Tonight we're gonna change forever._

_Everybody loses it, everybody wants to throw it all away sometimes._

Fortunately the feast and the drink had the expected effect on the gypsies and they did not give chase very far into the darkness. Wolfram and Rosamunde slowed and tried to get their bearings. They found a cave and hid inside. The running in the predawn hours left them shivering, and they huddled together for warmth.

"That was quite an adventure, mein spatzi, my little sparrow. Are we doomed to always fly while we're together?"

She laughed softly and moved closer as he wrapped his arms around her fully, "I'm not sure, but I'm willing to fly anywhere with you." She looked into his eyes, and he kissed her on the forehead. They soon fell asleep, wrapped in each other's warmth.

_People like us, we've gotta stick together;_

_Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever._

_Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten,_

_It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom._

_We are all misfits living in a world on fire._

_Sing it for the people like us, the people like us._

_You've just gotta turn it up when the flames get higher._

_Sing it for the people like us, the people like us…_

* * *

_Song: People Like Us by Kelly Clarkson. From the album Greatest Hits: Chapter 1, copyright 2012, RCA Records_


	11. Desert Rose

_So I have all of these ideas floating around in my head... and now that the school year is over, I have some time for those flying ideas to land... _

_So now we have a different past life. YAY! I am not an Egyptologist, so there was minimal fact-checking here. But it *is* fanfic, so I guess I can be forgiven... right?_

_I don't own the song, NBC, the show, or the characters. But I have... many thoughts... _

* * *

**Ancient Egypt**

_I dream of rain. I dream of gardens in the desert sand._

_I wake in vain; I dream of love as time runs through my hand._

Amun rolled his eyes as the music began. Why in the name of Anubis were they sitting here, feasting, when there was strategy to be devised and battles to be fought? It annoyed him further that this celebration was for him. He willed it to go quickly.

_I dream of fire; these dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire._

_And in the flames, her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire._

He kept his eyes low as the dancers began plying their trade. They were a lovely set, indeed, and, if tradition held, he would be given his choice of them after they were finished. He was being promoted, after all, and what better reward for a job well done than a concubine, or possibly a wife? He quietly studied them as they danced. None of them really inspired him, and it was probably just as well. He would just ask for another reward instead. Maybe some livestock...

_This desert rose, each of her veils a secret promise._

_This desert flower, no sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this._

Then he saw her. She was dressed in red, his favorite color. She was by no means the most skilled dancer, or the most beautiful (although, he admitted, she was quite lovely), but something about her drew him. She was draped in many veils, and, soon enough, the veils unwound, tripping her. She fell flat on her face and took out another dancer on her way down.

_And as she turns this way, she moves in the logic of all my dreams._

_This fire burns. I realize that nothing's as it seems._

Amun leapt to his feet and sprinted to the girl's side. His General was at her other side. He grabbed her arm and drew his sword. Amun looked into the girl's face and saw her fear… he saw her… change. She became a fox briefly, and then shifted back. Amun looked around to see if anyone else had seen it, but no one appeared to. His General was now speaking.

_I dream of rain. I dream of gardens in the desert sand._

_I wake in vain; I dream of love as time runs through my hand._

"How dare you disrespect this man and his celebration! You shall now suffer the consequences of your actions!" He raised his sword, preparing to liberate the arm from the lady, when Amun stopped him.

_I dream of rain; I lift my gaze to empty skies above._

_I close my eyes, this rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love._

"No," Amun said simply, "she did not ruin it. In fact, I think we can agree she made the whole thing much more interesting. If you were going to offer me one of these ladies for my bed or my bride, she is the one I desire, and you will not harm her. She is mine." The General lowered his sword, and looked from his new second-in-command to the dancer and back.

_I dream of rain. I dream of gardens in the desert sand._

_I wake in vain; I dream of love as time runs through my hand._

"Are you sure? She made a mess of your feast…"

"It was an accident borne from the wearing of one too many long veils." Amun looked down at the girl and offered her his hand. "Accidents are not always bad thing."

"Fine, then, this woman is yours. Do what you will."

_Sweet desert rose, each of her veils a secret promise._

_This desert flower, no sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this._

Amun helped the girl up and tenderly kissed her hand. "I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I had help you. You're… obviously not like the other girls…" She gasped and tried to pull away, but he suddenly shifted as well. He was a wolf-man. He was like her! She relaxed visibly and introduced herself as Beset. Amun led her over to where he had been seated, and had her sit on his lap. The rest of the feast went by much quicker, now that he had someone to talk to.

_Sweet desert rose, this memory of Eden haunts us all._

_This desert flower, this rare perfume, is the sweet intoxication of the fall. _

* * *

_Song: Desert Rose by Sting. From the album Brand New Day, copyright 1999, A&M Records_


	12. Snow on the Sahara

_This is a follow-up to Desert Rose. These two fics were originally a totally different story based around this song. I chose the names Beset and Amun based on the earlier idea, which got turned around. But I got to create a little lore of my own in the process... Enjoy!_

_Reviews/ requests/ suggestions still welcome. It may not appear in the way you think it will, but I consider each suggestion._

_I don't own the song, NBC, the shows, the characters, any of that fun stuff. Also, again, not an Egyptologist, but having some fun..._

* * *

_Only tell me that you still want me here_

_When you wander off out there,_

_To those hills of dust and hard winds that blow, _

_In that dry white ocean, alone._

_Lost out in the desert, you are lost out in the desert._

_But to stand with you in a ring of fire,_

_I'll forget the days gone by._

_I'll protect your body and guard your soul_

_From mirages in your sight. Lost out in the desert…_

After the feast had finished, Amun led Beset back to his home. It was very sparse, as he lived alone and was rarely home. He did own a large harp, which Beset eyed with interest. He offered her his small cot and sat on a stool. She began to undress, to offer herself to her new master, but he stopped her.

"I'm sorry," he began, "I seem to have let my impulses get the better of me. You only need stay if YOU wish. As you see, I do not keep many possessions, but I do have the means to care for you... if you wish to stay. I want to know more about you, how you came to be here. I have never met anyone like me before…"

"I at least owe you for saving me. I do not really have anywhere else to go; after ruining the dance, I am surely not welcome among them again…"

"Maybe you can begin by telling me about yourself. How did you come to be a fox-woman?"

"Maybe it was the same way you became a jackal." She laughed. He was pretty sure that her laugh was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. He wanted to hear more of it.

"Please, my lady, I am a wolf. We wolves are much nobler of spirit than jackals. They are but scavengers." She laughed again.

"My parents were both like me… unfortunately they were murdered many years ago by a man who could become like an asp. He poisoned them to get out of a debt. I was very young…"

"What sort of debt?" Amun asked, afraid for the answer.

"My father was a very powerful sorcerer and conjurer. He saved this man's life, but the price agreed upon while he was dying was apparently far too high when he was healed. Fortunately, he was caught and put to death."

"And do you, my lady, possess any of your father's… traits?"

"I can make strong potions and I have a little magick of my own. But I think that is for another night, don't you agree?" She yawned; it had been a long day.

She refused to sleep in the cot by herself, and slept the night on the floor with him. As she curled up next to him, he made a mental note to buy her a proper bed first thing in the morning.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, Amun never felt more alive. He was in love. Not the kind of puppy love that clouded the minds of the young recruits, this love drove him to be the best. And while he had always been something of a tactical savant, now his goal shifted to dealing the heaviest blow to the enemy while getting the most of their own warriors home to their loved ones. Beset proved herself over and over to be a worthy investment; not only could she dance, but she could play his harp better than he could, and sing beautifully with it. He would often find her brewing concoctions she would sell to the women in the city to help them with aches and pains and heal cuts and scrapes on little ones. Even more amazingly, she could read and she was a brilliant storyteller, and every day the pair grew closer.

_If your hopes scatter like the dust across your track,_

_I'll be the moon that shines on your path._

_The sun may blind our eyes, I'll pray the skies above_

_For snow to fall on the Sahara. _

Finally, six months after bringing her into his home, he asked her to marry him and make it official. She asked him to join her on the bed he bought her. He had continued to sleep on his cot next to her to give her space and privacy, and, no matter how many times she asked him, he refused to go any further than chaste kisses. He was a gentleman, after all. She looked at her hands as she spoke.

"I will marry you, but before we do, I want to perform some magick. I have never loved or been loved like this, and I worry that I will not be able to find it again in the next life…"

"The eternal life with the Gods?"

"No. That is not what happens, at least, not what I believe. I believe we will be born again and again until we achieve all we are meant to achieve, however long that takes…"

"So… you want to… what?" he asked, confused.

"I know a way we can bind our souls so that we will always find each other. I watched my parents perform the ceremony many times on many couples, and I know it works. We will be drawn to each other in each life, and we will always find each other. Does that sound like something you would want to do?"

He sat quietly for a moment, then looked into her eyes. "I never liked the idea of my heart being weighed against a feather anyway. Will this make you happy, my love?" She nodded. "Then we shall do it whenever you please… however…" he took her hands into his, "may I ask for an addendum? Perhaps your gift to me?" She cocked her head, questioning. He took a deep breath. "I watched my father waste away after the death of my mother. She was his only wife, and they loved each other so very much. If you can… that is, if it doesn't upset the natural order... I do not want to live more than a day without you sharing it with me. If you die, I wish to die the same day, so we may prepare for the next life together. Can you do anything like that?"

He watched her as she thought. Finally, she answered. "I cannot make promises, but allow me to consult my books and charts. The ceremony will need to be presided over by a priestess, so we can add it to our marriage contract. Just follow the instructions and it will work."

The next morning, Amun woke up happy. His blood was ignited with passion, and he could not help feeling the thrill of life that day. When he came home, Beset met him at the door dressed in her best clothes.

"I consulted my books and charts and one of the priestesses I know. We must be married and do the binding tonight if you wish to include your addition. Does that suit you, my beloved?"

He smiled broadly. "Indeed. I will be ready in a few moments!"

_Just a wish and I will cover your shoulders_

_With veils of silk and gold_

_When the shadows come and darken your heart,_

_Leaving you with regrets so cold. Lost out in the desert…_

_If your hopes scatter like the dust across your track,_

_I'll be the moon that shines on your path._

_The sun may blind our eyes, I'll pray the skies above_

_For snow to fall on the Sahara. _

The ceremony to marry them was very short, as neither had family to incorporate. After those proceedings were finished, the priestess led them into a darker antechamber alight with candles. There, they partook in ancient magick that promised they would find each other in any subsequent life, and that neither would live more than a day without their love. The priestess then showed them to a ceremonial bed with all sorts of strange markings painted on it. It had curtains all around it, also painted with symbols.

"In order for the magick to work, you must consummate your love. Have you done this yet together?" Amun and Beset admitted they had not. "Good, then the bond will be much stronger for it. Take your time. I will speak to you again when you are finished." They crawled onto the bed, closed the curtains, and experienced each other.

When they finished and replaced their clothes, the priestess spoke. "What did you see? You should have had visions beyond what you were doing and into the future."

Beset answered first. "I saw great ships and large rounded pyramids made of white stone."

Amun agreed that he had seen them as well. They went back and forth telling what they had seen, and the other agreeing they had seen the same. The visions had been very blurry to begin, but became clearer and sharper as they got closer, and they both had seen nothing but the other surrounded by light as they had climaxed together.

The priestess was satisfied. "The binding has worked. You may go home now, but I recommend you try to consummate at least once more before the night is over." She winked. "Just in case."

_If that's the only place where you can leave your doubts, _

_I'll hold you up and be your way out._

_And if we burn away, I'll pray the skies above_

_For snow to fall on the Sahara._

* * *

_Song: Snow on the Sahara by Anggun. From the album Anggun, copyright 1997, Columbia Records._

If you ask me nicely, I *might* be convinced to do an M-rated "midquel" smutfic of the consummation... Just saying, not above it...


	13. Kiss Me Slowly

_This is for Monrosalee (the author, not the ship, whose fics are just adorable), who suggested this song and helped me work through my issues writing it. _

_The bar I created is actually a combination of three bars that actually exist: one is in Burgos, Spain (I lived in Spain in college); the other two are in my home state of Delaware (I miss DE so much right now, so that might have something to do with it!). _

_I also included a little Easter Egg in this story. The first person to figure it out gets a virtual cookie AND I will write a fic based around a song of their choosing (within reason. I don't think I'd do justice to a Baby Got Back fic...) and a shout-out. It might be a little esoteric, but I thought it was funny._

_Thanks for all the reviews, suggestions and continued support! As this story attests, I take each suggestion seriously to the point of near madness! Muhahaha!_

_You know the drill, I own nothing._

* * *

Monroe wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he and Rosalee arrived at The Blind Fox. As far as he knew, it was a veggie-friendly place, but almost exclusively Kehrseite. Inside, it was set up in the style of a European pub, with stained glass featuring details of cute foxes. However, the reason they were there led them to being seated on the outside patio. The patio had lovely green awnings over the tables while a central area had a sort of concrete dance floor. There was an outside bar, distinguished by light blue awning, a few large flat screen TVs showing the night's major games, and a small stage. Rosalee gasped when she saw that the entire area seemed to be covered in fairy lights, which gave the place a romantic, ethereal glow as a soft, late-spring breeze played across the patio.

After they had been seated, Monroe was pleased to see that the menu offered a wide variety of vegan and vegetarian options; in fact, the price of most of the entrées depended on the protein, which ranged from the expected chicken, pork, and beef to falafel patties, seitan, and tofu. Monroe made a mental note to definitely come back to this place, if only to try everything on the menu. After they had placed their order, Monroe noticed the band starting to set up. He found who he was searching for, grabbed Rosalee's hand, and led her over.

"Roddy! Hey, man!"

"Monroe! Good to see you! So glad you guys could make it!" The Reinigen shook Monroe's hand as the Blubad clapped him on the back. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"This is Rosalee… she's… umm…"

"Delighted to meet you, Roddy," Rosalee interjected, shaking Roddy's hand as well.

"Is Detective Burkhard coming, too?"

"No. Sorry, buddy, he's working. But he may stop by for a few minutes a little later if you're still playing."

"What's the name of your band?" Rosalee asked, looking at all the instruments being set up.

"We go by String Theory. It's me and some of the other kids from school. We're actually having a great time, because we're all classically trained, so it's fun to arrange pop songs and stuff to fit what we have available. I've got my violin, Chelsea plays piano and sings, Bobby plays guitar, and Eduardo's on drums. Bobby and I split male vocals depending on song."

"That sounds great! And how did you get this gig?"

Roddy lowered his voice. "The owner, Krystal Pérez, is also Reinigen. She says she modeled this place after a bar she used to go to in Spain by the same name. Isn't it cool? Not that I've been in many bars…" he stuttered as Monroe raised his eyebrows. "I really am keeping out of trouble…"

"Monroe, our food's here." Rosalee scampered back to their table as Monroe clapped Roddy on the back one more time.

"Listen, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind doing a song for her? I think she'd like it. She…"

"Do you love her? Or are you not at that stage yet?"

"I… I want to be at that stage, but we've both been burned before, you know? It's a lot different when you're our age, man, so enjoy your youth. And kick some ass!"

"I will! Enjoy your meal, we'll be starting soon. And I'll see what I can do for you."

Monroe made his way back to Rosalee who had already started into her Tequila Lime Bowl with chicken.  
"Sorry!" she mumbled with mouth full of food, "It smelled so good, and I was so hungry!"

Monroe smiled and tucked in to seitan "Greek Meatloaf". He couldn't help but notice how fresh everything tasted. Behind him, he heard a girl's voice performing mic checks. When they were almost finished (they were really hungry!), the band was introduced and they ripped right into a cover of Led Zeppelin's Kashmir, with Roddy playing his violin while Chelsea sang.

"They sound GREAT!" Rosalee shouted across the table.

"A little loud, but I like it!"

When they had finished their food and paid their check, they wandered into the central dance floor area. It was not incredibly crowded, so they had a bit of room to dance and be silly. The band did a lot more wonderful covers, and each member of the band was got to have the spotlight. They all seemed to work very well together, and played off each other in a manner that led Monroe to believe Roddy might be finally finding his tribe. And he couldn't be happier for him.

After a particularly awesome cover of David Bowie's "Life On Mars", Roddy took the microphone and addressed the crowd.

"Once again, we are String Theory. This is a new song for us, first time we're doing it for an audience. I'd like to dedicate it to… anyone at the beginning of a relationship. You may not know where you're going, but you know where you've been and…"

"Cut to the chase, Bon Jovi" Eduardo chided from behind the drum kit.

"Well, anyway," Roddy continued, laughing, "here's to all the possibilities of newfound love."

Roddy nodded and Chelsea started playing the keyboard. Eduardo and Bobby joined in. The song was not a traditional slow song, but slow enough.

Rosalee pulled Monroe close as Roddy started singing.

_"Stay with me. Baby, stay with me._

_Tonight don't leave me alone._

_Walk with me; come and walk with me_

_To the edge of all we've ever known._

_I can see you there with the city lights,_

_Fourteenth floor, pale blue eyes;_

_I can breathe you in._

_Two shadows standing by the bedroom door,_

_No, I could not want you more than I did right then,_

_As our heads leaned in._

_Well, I'm not sure what this is gonna be,_

_But with my eyes closed, all I see_

_Is the skyline through the window,_

_The moon above you and the streets below._

_Hold my breath as you're moving in,_

_Taste your lips and feel your skin._

_When the time comes, baby, don't run. _

_Just kiss me slowly."_

"You put him up to this, didn't you? Is that what you were talking about while your food was getting cold?"

Monroe pulled away to get a better look. She didn't look angry…

"Well, uh, that depends… do you like it?

She responded by kissing him on the cheek and putting her head on his shoulder as Roddy continued.

_"Stay with me, baby, stay with me_

_Tonight, don't leave me alone._

_She shows me everything she used to know:_

_Picture frames and country roads,_

_When the days were long and the world was small._

_She stood by as it fell apart,_

_Separate rooms and broken hearts,_

_But I won't be the one to let you go_.

_Oh, I'm not sure what this is gonna be,_

_But with my eyes closed, all I see_

_Is the skyline through the window,_

_The moon above you and the streets below._

_Hold my breath as you're moving in,_

_Taste your lips and feel your skin._

_When the time comes, baby, don't run. _

_Just kiss me slowly._

_Don't run away. And it's hard to love again _

_When the only way it's been,_

_When the only love you knew,_

_Just walked away._

_If it's something that you want, Darling, you don't have to run._

_You don't have to go._

Monroe couldn't look at Rosalee for fear that he would openly cry. Dang, Roddy picked a heck of a song. He felt Rosalee's grasp tighten throughout the song, and he steeled himself to look down at her. He met closed eyes with tears running from them. No, he hadn't wanted this… He kissed her forehead, and she opened her eyes. She was crying, but she didn't look sad. She grasped his neck and kissed him. A long, lingering, slow kiss as Roddy finished the song.

_Just stay with me, baby stay with me…_

_Well, I'm not sure what this is gonna be,_

_But with my eyes closed, all I see_

_Is the skyline through the window,_

_The moon above you and the streets below._

_Hold my breath as you're moving in,_

_Taste your lips and feel your skin._

_When the time comes, baby, don't run. _

_Just kiss me slowly._

_Oh, I'm not sure where this is gonna go,_

_But in this moment, all I know_

_Is the skyline through the window,_

_The moon above you and the streets below._

_Hold my breath as you're moving in,_

_Taste your lips and feel your skin._

_When the time comes, baby, don't run. _

_Just kiss me slowly."_

When the song finished, the crowd around them applauded, and Rosalee and Monroe broke apart. She wiped her eyes and smiled.

"That was so beautiful. You asked him to play that for me?"

"Well, uh, not that specifically. Just a general song… did you like it?"

She smiled again and grabbed his collar, pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

_Song: Kiss Me Slowly by Parachute. From the album The Way It Was, copyright 2010, Mercury Records_


	14. Sight of the Sun

_This is the follow-up to Kiss Me Slowly. So, yes, Roddy cameo! YAY! Also, the hunt for the Easter Egg in Kiss Me Slowly is still on! The prize is a virtual cookie, plus me writing a fic for the song of your choice with a shout out. I shall give you a hint: It has to do with Krystal, the owner of the bar. If you think you've got it, let me know! _

_I incorporated some stuff from the Grimm comics into this as well. This is on its way to being a full-fledged fandom! YAY! More people to geek out with!_

_As always, reviews/comments/suggestions/requests welcome._

_Also as always, I don't own the song, NBC, the show, or the characters. Because I'm not that cool. I'm cool, just not that cool._

* * *

Rosalee was worried. Monroe had been acting strangely for a couple of weeks. He would randomly disappear for hours at a time. He couldn't be cheating; even if he would, which he wouldn't, she would be able to smell another lover. However, now that she was pregnant (recently confirmed by a trip to Dr. Julliard), her sense of smell was a little out of whack. She figured it might have something to do with the fact that their first wedding anniversary was fast approaching, but she was still not sure what to think.

The day before their anniversary, Monroe called her while she was at the shop and told her that they were going to have dinner out with Nick and Juliette.

"If that's okay… I kind of didn't think…"

Rosalee sighed, hoping it was her hormones that were making her not want to go anywhere. She was still experiencing quite a bit of morning sickness and felt so tired all the time. They also hadn't told the Burkhardts they were expecting yet… well, this might be the time to tell them.

"Okay… where are we going?"

"We're going to meet at the Blind Fox. Is that okay?

"No promises, but I think I'll be able to handle myself. It doesn't normally smell too weird in there…"

"Great! I'll see you when you get home! Love you!"

After he hung up, Rosalee stood staring at the phone. Monroe had such a bad poker face, and even when she couldn't see it. Something was up…

When she got home, her husband was nowhere to be found. The clock he was working on was also gone, so she figured he went to deliver it. Maybe that's why he sounded so excited…

When Monroe came home, Rosalee was in the shower. He was almost giddy with excitement… he had to calm down, or else he would blow everything…

Rosalee got out of the shower and stood at the closet deciding what to wear. It was an unusually mild October, so a sweater would probably do… She heard Monroe come up behind her, and closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Hey, foxy mama…" he said as he kissed her temple and she giggled.

"That reminds me… you haven't told Nick yet, have you?"

"No. I was thinking we could tell them tonight… is that okay? This is their first time out together since Jacob…"

"I still can't believe they have two boys under the age of two!"

"And soon enough, we're going to have a little… something… of our own…"

"Something? You're calling your baby a something?" Rosalee asked in mock exasperation.

"Well, we don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet, and we don't know if it's a pup or a kit… what do you want me to call it? I don't want to call it "It", either…"

Rosalee sighed and leaned back into her husband. "I don't know. I've just been so tired lately and I ache all over and everything smells weird… "

"Well, we don't have to tell them tonight… what did Dr. Julliard say again?  
"Dr. Julliard said that since we conceived outside of Entzünden, it might be a little more difficult than most Fuchsbau pregnancies, but in general we have a really low rate of miscarriage unless there's an Rh Incompatibility. However, as I am Rh-positive, it won't be an issue. She said most people wait until they're out of the first trimester to tell their loved ones in case there's a problem…"

"So we wouldn't be telling them until around Christmas? When would you start showing?"

Rosalee shrugged. "If the opportunity arises, we can tell them tonight. But I need to finish getting ready. What time are we meeting them?"

Monroe looked over at one of his many clocks. "You've got about 45 minutes. I think I'll get a quick shower, too…" He planted one more kiss on her cheek before pulling away.

Exactly 48 minutes later, Monroe's Bug pulled up to the Blind Fox. It had grown much since they first visited years ago. Krystal Pérez, the owner, was a shrewd businesswoman, but she never lost sight of her vision- a place where Wesen and Kehrseite could mingle, enjoy vegan- and vegetarian-friendly food, watch the game and listen to live music. Krystal got to know Nick and Monroe on a first name basis not long after Monroe and Rosalee's first visit, when a college-age Löwen went after a much older Seelengut after having too much to drink. Monroe had brought Nick to the Blind Fox to celebrate the news of Juliette's pregnancy with their first, so it was a right place, right time situation. For their help in the matter (or perhaps to get on the Grimm's good side), both Nick and Monroe enjoyed heavy "personal friend" discounts whenever Krystal was around, which seemed to be always. Krystal and Rosalee also became good friends when the Blind Fox catered their wedding last year.

Krystal was standing by the bar when they entered, and greeted them both with a warm hug. She took them out to the back patio, where a band was setting up. Nick and Juliette had not yet arrived; Nick sent Monroe a text saying their babysitter, Elsie, a teenage Eisbiber, had arrived late and was still apologizing.

"Who's playing tonight, Krystal?" Rosalee asked as she sat down next to her husband.

"Oh, didn't Monroe tell you? Roddy's coming in with String Theory. I'm letting them cut their teeth as much as they want, because they are by far our most popular band, and I'm not sure it they'll all stay in Portland if they graduate. The way Chelsea and Bobby have been writing original songs, they might just make it. Did you know that they cut a demo? If it's any good, they could start touring as soon as they graduate…" Krystal kept talking, oblivious to the fact that Rosalee was giving Monroe The Look. "I'll show the Burkhardts over when they get in and I think Marcy is your server tonight, so I'll send her right over to bring you some drinks."

After Krystal had scurried away, Rosalee eyed her husband suspiciously.

"Sooo… Our anniversary is coming up… and you spring a double date on me without telling me that the band that introduced us to our song, and then were kind enough to play it for our first dance were performing… is that what you've been hiding from me?"

"Well, um, I, uh…" Monroe sputtered, mercifully saved by the arrival of Marcy and then almost immediately by Nick and Juliette. They both looked exhausted. Rosalee gave Monroe a quick "This Isn't Over" look before standing to greet their friends.

"Sorry, Elsie wouldn't stop apologizing for being late…"

"Elsie… she's Irv's girl, right? She's a sweet girl, but you know how they are in general…"

Juliette sighed, "I just wish they'd all stop worrying that Nick's going to kill them over every little thing. I mean, really…"

Marcy arrived with their drinks and took their order.

"I can't wait to see Roddy tonight!" Nick stated between sips of his beer. "They've gotten so good, haven't they? And of course it was great they agreed to play the first half of your reception… hey, your anniversary is coming up! Doing anything special?"

Rosalee looked expectantly at her husband. They hadn't really discussed anything, especially since the last two weeks had been spent getting up to speed on Rosalee's pregnancy.

Monroe looked from Nick to Rosalee and said with a small smile, "I can neither confirm nor deny that something is in the works." He looked at Rosalee with his puppy dog eyes and she felt her suspicion dissipate. She knew this. He was a planner, and he often made elaborate plans and grand gestures. Whatever he was hiding would be revealed soon enough.

Their food arrived and Rosalee suddenly looked a little green when she smelled her food. Monroe asked her if she wanted to trade, and she took his Maple-glazed Salmon and he ate her Chicken Parmesan. Nick and Juliette exchanged glances.

"What?" Monroe asked. He had seen their looks as well.

"It's just that…" Nick began.

"We've never seen you eat meat!" Juliette finished. "It's like a herd of zebra stampeding Downtown, something you don't see every day!"

"Well, chicken isn't really that big a problem for me, it's the red meat I've really got to watch out for. And Rosalee…"

"I, uh, haven't been feeling well lately. I might be coming down with something." Rosalee finished.

When they had finished their food, they saw the band finish up their mic checks. Roddy waved to them and the band began playing. They began with a cover of "Eleanor Rigby" by the Beatles, before sliding into a sweet song Chelsea wrote called "Daisy in the City of Roses", about being an outcast before finding her place with the band. There was a good combination of covers and original songs, and Krystal was right: they sounded better each time they performed, and you could tell that they all really liked each other and loved working together. When the band finished their first set, Monroe excused himself and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Juliette rolled her eyes as she checked her phone.

"Elsie sent us a text apologizing again! I really hope she's taking care of Neil and Jake while she's having her freak out…" Rosalee stifled a giggle. "Oh, just wait. Wait until you two breed…" Juliette stopped herself, looking confused. "CAN you breed? I mean, I know you're human, but foxes and wolves aren't genetically compatible… " Juliette stopped. Rosalee noticed Nick was giving her a Look.

Rosalee took a deep breath. "I don't really know what would happen, because interbreeding doesn't normally happen in the Wesen community. I'm sure you remember the _Reinheitsgebot _conversations that kept coming up while we were planning our wedding? Most interbreeding is illegitimate, so it's hard to keep track… where is Monroe, anyway?" She started looking around as String Theory reappeared on the stage. Roddy took the microphone.

"Okay, so we've got something very special for you guys tonight. Our first gig here, we were asked to play a song for a lovely lady named Rosalee." Rosalee felt her jaw drop. "We played a song called "Kiss Me Slowly" by the band Parachute. Now about a year ago, lovely Rosalee married the gentleman who asked us to play the song, and they were gracious enough to ask us to play it as their first dance…" Roddy paused as the crowd let loose with some "Awwwww!"s. He continued, "And tonight, it comes full circle. I would like to invite Friend of the Band Monroe to the stage!"

There was her husband, with his cello, on the small stage with the band. Rosalee looked over at Nick and Juliette. They appeared just as shocked as she was.

Monroe sat on a stool, adjusted his cello, and nodded to Chelsea, who started playing notes on her keyboard. Roddy prepared his violin, and Bobby started singing.

_"For once, there is nothing up my sleeve,_

_Just some scars from a life that used to trouble me._

_I used to run at first sight of the sun,_

_Now I lay here waiting for you to wake up._

_The city outside still sounds like it's on fire._

_You put on new sheets, _

_The white flag of a Saturday night._

_I know we stayed up, talking in circles, _

_But I like to think the symmetry will keep me close to you._

_For everyone I'm out to prove wrong, you keep the light on._

_The only one, you know me better than the truth._

_So despite what I've done, I pray to God that we can move on,_

_'Cause thus far you are the best thing that this life is yet to lose."_

Rosalee was still reeling from the shock of her husband playing a song for her with a band on stage in front of people when his tenor joined in the last line with Bobby and joined in the chorus with the rest of the band. He was performing a song for her!

"_And for once, there is nothing up my sleeve,_

_Just some scars from a life that used to trouble me._

_I used to run at first sight of the sun,_

_Now I lay here waiting for you to wake up._

_I lay here waiting for you to wake up._

_So if you're gonna leave, if you're gonna go,_

_I can't bear to sleep without you in my arms._

_I know we got caught up _

_Sifting through a crowd of people and losers,_

_But you must not let them take you,_

_They don't know you like I do._

_For once, there is nothing up my sleeve,_

_Just some scars from a life that used to trouble me._

_I used to run at first sight of the sun,_

_Now I lay here waiting for you to wake up._

_Do you remember when we stayed up_

_'Til the sun stretched through the room?_

_I used to blame it on the queens walking down 7__th__ Avenue._

_It's been years now since we moved._

_I've gotten good with an excuse;_

_You know I try not to speak superlatives, _

_But it's impossible to you…"_

Monroe set his cello aside, grabbed the closest microphone, and walked toward the edge of the stage. In those same moments, Rosalee felt herself get up and she walked to the stage to meet him. He smiled broadly as she approached and extended his hand to her. She took it. There was nothing else in the world at that moment, just him, her, and a piano in the distance.

_"The city outside is nothing but a flicker now._

_You see our friends to bed, you turn out the lights._

_I start to think you'll make a beautiful mother. I, _

_I like to think I have everything I want from this life."_

Rosalee had tears running down her cheeks as she continued grasping her husband's hand. He set the microphone down and jumped off the stage, enveloping her in a kiss as the crowd and band cheered and clapped around them. Rosalee vaguely heard Roddy on the microphone behind them.

"Friends of the Band Monroe and Rosalee, everybody! Happy first anniversary and wishes for many more!"

After Rosalee and Monroe parted, he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I have to go get my cello, but I'll be right back, I promise." She smiled, nodded, and kissed him once more. He had done it again, leaving her completely speechless. She made her way back to their table, still wiping the tears away.

"That was BEAUTIFUL!" Juliette sprang out of her chair to wrap Rosalee in a hug.

"Did you know he was going to do that?" Rosalee asked Nick.

The Grimm put his hands up and shook his head, "I had no idea. I didn't even know he could sing. I knew about the cello, but he has a nice voice…"

The band were finishing up an acoustic cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road" when Monroe reappeared at their table with his cased cello. Rosalee stood to give him another hug and kiss.

"So you liked it?" the Blutbad asked his wife. She nodded. "That's why I've been acting funny. I originally was only going to play, but singing the last part seemed apt considering…"

The next words out of Juliette's mouth echoed across the patio, which was quiet as the band prepared for their next song.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE PREGNANT!" followed by squealing and jumping up and down.

Bobby had the microphone and was about to introduce the next song, but instead he saw where the noise was coming from and asked, in front of everyone, "Is that true?"

Monroe looked at Rosalee, slightly panic-stricken, but she nodded, smiled, and shouted, "YES!" A cheer went up in the patio, and they were soon surrounded by well-wishers.

"Well, on behalf of String Theory, we once again congratulate Friends of the Band Monroe and Rosalee not only on their wedding anniversary, but on their growing family as well! Mazel tov!"

The band played "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong, and Krystal brought out some Jasmine Rice Pudding, Rosalee's favorite dessert, with a lit sparkler sticking out of it.

"On the house!" She stated above the ruckus with a huge smile on her face as she placed it in front of them. Monroe took Rosalee's hand, squeezed it, and smiled.

"I like to think I have everything I want from this life."

* * *

_Song: Sight of the Sun by fun. From the soundtrack Girls, Vol. 1, copyright 2013, Fueled By Ramen_

_I also don't think I'm the only one who thinks we need more Monroe/Cello action on the show. Moncello? Moncello. Moncello for Monrosalee. _


	15. Good Guys Don't Always Wear White

_Yet another Past Life! Yay! I was torn between doing a Civil War fic or a Wild West fic for this lifetime, but living near a Civil War battlefield that just celebrated it's 150th anniversary, I'm Civil War'd out. And I might personally have a thing for Westerns. And it's July 4th here in the States, so that may have something to do with it. _

_As always, reviews/ suggestions/ requests welcome. The Easter Egg in Kiss Me Slowly still hides, so let me know if you find it!_

_I own nothing. But I kinda would love to see Grimm as a Western... _

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada, 1871**

_You say you don't like my kind,_

_A bitter picture in your mind._

_No, it don't matter what I say,_

_I hear you bitchin' when I walk away._

_I'll never be what you want me to be;_

_You tell me I'm wrong, but I disagree._

_I ain't got no apology,_

_Just because I don't look like you,_

_Talk like you, think like you._

_Judge and jury, hangman's noose,_

_I see them in your eyes._

_Good guys don't always wear white._

_Good guys don't always wear white._

Ambrose Dunn sat down at his desk and wiped his brow. It was entirely too hot, and the heat was making tempers flare in the small town of Ruby Hill, Nevada; the holding cell in his office now contained three people, two of them freshly arrested for starting a fight in the Crippled Rooster Saloon, the other a drunk he'd put in the cell last night who had still not woken up. He sighed. He needed another deputy; he was doing his best to keep order, but there was only so much a single Blutbad could do. His previous deputy, Gus, had been killed by a roving band of Balam. He had sent a request to the Sheriff of Eureka County for some assistance, but as of yet, none had shown itself.

Ambrose stood up, decided that finding a way to wake the drunk up was as good a reason as any to go visit Rebecca.

Rebecca. He smiled at the thought of her. Her family was one of the first in the town, and one of the wealthiest, owning both the General Store and the attached Druggist. Rebecca had been considered one of the most eligible ladies in the town until her father took ill. As she was the only child, and since her mother died of Yellow Fever years ago, she was her father's protégé, whip-smart and full of business savvy. She took over the stores, leaving very little time for courting. She was as beautiful as she was smart, but many men in the town already called her a spinster who was too smart for her own good; they preferred instead to associate with the soiled doves at Miss Hettie's brothel. Ambrose didn't mind the lack of competition, however, as it meant he could love Rebecca as much as he wanted without fear she would choose another; Ambrose was a brave man, but not brave enough to admit how he felt for fear she wouldn't feel the same.

He snapped out of his reverie when he realized that his feet had, seemingly by their own accord, brought him to the door of the General Store. He entered, removing his hat. He could not see Rebecca, but he could hear her. She sounded like she was crying. He followed the sound into the Druggist shop.

"Miss Rebecca? Are you in here?" There was a sniffle and the sound of someone splashing water, and she emerged from behind the counter. Her hair was damp, and her eyes were red and puffy. She started crying afresh when she saw him and rushed to him. He embraced her as she sobbed.

"Oh, Ambrose, I'm so glad you're here…" she burrowed herself further into his arms, and, while he hated seeing her cry, his heart secretly started pounding so hard, he was sure she'd be able to feel it. She was in his arms! And she was glad he was here! He shook those feeling away and asked her why she was crying, one of his hands absently rubbing her back.

"Pa died this morning." Ambrose felt his heart stop. Of course. Her father had been sick for a long time. She wanted the comfort of a friend, and that was all he would ever be to her, right? He started to pull away, but she grabbed him tighter, continuing to sob. He let her cry. As the emotions washed over her, she shifted back and forth between her fox form and her human form. He loved her fox form, with her beautiful golden eyes, but her eyes were buried in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, kiss the tears away…

But then he heard them. Gunshots. Rebecca heard them too, and broke away from his embrace, rushing to the window. Ambrose followed her.

"Stay here, Miss Rebecca, I'll handle this." He ran out of the shop with his gun drawn.

_You judge a man who don't stand in line_

_Just because he ain't on your side._

_You know the man who wears those shoes;_

_If you cut me, don't I bleed like you? You know I do._

_I don't know what you've been told,_

_Can't buy guts with a pot of gold._

_A rich man's poor if he's got no soul._

_Rich man, poor man, begger man, king,_

_All that shit don't mean a thing._

_Do you know which one's behind those eyes?_

_It's all a disguise, just go away._

_Good guys don't always wear white._

_Good guys don't always wear white. _

The street was empty except for Ambrose, and two men in front of Miss Hettie's. The wounded man was woged into Skalengeck form, but bleeding out quickly. The man who stood above him had a stern look on his face, and pointed the gun at the Skalengeck's forehead. Before Ambrose could reach them, the gun went off, and the Skalengeck was no more.

"What did you do that for? Who are you, and what are you doing causing disorder in my town?"

The gunman turned and faced Ambrose. He eyed the Marshall suspiciously, especially the badge on his vest. He did not extend his hand, and kept his gun out. Ambrose felt himself getting very angry.

"Name's Nathaniel. Nathaniel Burke. I was sent by the Sheriff to help… Am I speaking to Ambrose Dunn?"

"That is in fact my name. I am the Marshall of Ruby Hill. And what did this man do to you?"

"He… uh…" Ambrose couldn't help himself; he grabbed the man by his shoulder, looked him square in the eye and woged. Nathaniel, cool as a cucumber, rolled his eyes. "Really? They sent me to help a Blutbad?" Ambrose dropped his arm and backed away.

"A Grimm? We don't need one of your kind here. What was this man's crime, drinking while Skalengeck? Is that why you shot him? Because if so, you'd better have a lot of bullets, because most of this town is Wesen, and we've been getting along just fine…"

"No, I didn't just shoot him because he's Skalengeck. I'm a man of the law, too. I shot him because he was wanted for murder in 6 counties. He was causing a ruckus here, "he waved his arm at Miss Hettie's, "So I went in and got him, recognized him, and when he tried to get away, I shot his knees out. And here we are." People were starting to come out of the buildings, and Ambrose grabbed Nathaniel's arm.

"Can we continue this in my office? Away from everybody?" Ambrose scanned the gathering crowd. "Hey, Zeb, can you run get Barty to take care of this? Tell him I will be stopping by directly."

As Ambrose and Nathaniel entered the Marshall's office, Nathaniel glanced around. He'd never seen a smaller office. Ambrose went over to the holding cell, with two men standing in it and one man sitting. He addressed the sitting man first.

"Well hello there, Levi. Did you have a nice nap? We were right worried about you. I'm gonna let you out now, but you might want to take the night off from the Crippled Rooster. I'd suggest you go on home and go to bed." Levi cautiously stood, and Ambrose opened the cell door. Levi was still a little wobbly, but he made it out of the office. Ambrose then addressed the other two.

"Now, gentlemen, have you both cooled off sufficiently? I realize it's right hot out, but that is not good reason to get angry and start breaking things over a card game. I've spoken with Silas, and he's agreed not to press charges if you reimburse him for the table and chairs you broke. He said you can either buy him new ones or make them. He's willing to be flexible. However, he says he will not allow either of you another drop in his establishment until he determines you're square. Is that reasonable to you?" The men nodded. "And Rufus, you might want to reconsider that extra ace you carry around with you, lest it get you into trouble again. In fact, you might want to consider letting me have it…" Rufus looked mournfully at the Marshall, but dug his Ace of Hearts out of his pocket and handed it to the lawman. "Very good. Now, I reckon you both go see Silas and discuss the terms of your apology, you hear?" The men nodded, and Ambrose opened the door again.

When Ambrose turned back to Nathaniel, the man's mouth was hanging open.

"What? You never seen a Blutbad talking reasonably to anyone before?" Nathaniel shook his head. "Well listen here, Nat… I'mma call you Nat, if'n you don't mind… I happen to be college educated, and I do not eat humans. I have no taste for them. I much prefer a nice steak, which I buy from the butcher like any other man. I don't know what you were expecting, but get one thing straight: I am a reasonable man, and I keep order in a reasonable manner. I don't shoot unless I have to, so if you would please be so kind as to holster your weapon before you hurt somebody…"

They were staring each other down so intently that Ambrose didn't hear her approach.

"Gentleman, what's going on? You caused a right scene…" Nathaniel turned his gun on Rebecca, but at the same moment, Ambrose grabbed his wrist, causing the gun to discharge into the ceiling. Rebecca shrieked and jumped back, woging in spite of herself. Ambrose grabbed the Grimm by the throat, his eyes flashing dangerously. However, he spoke quietly and calmly.

"Mister Burke, I do need a deputy, but I'm going to require you to not be so, shall we say, trigger happy." He turned the Grimm's face to Rebecca's. "This here is Miss Rebecca Cooke. Her father passed this morning, leaving her alone to run the only General Store and Druggist in town. As you can probably guess, she is having a rough day as it is without your shenanigans. And if you have even half a mind to harm a hair on her head, I only hope that you've managed to kill me first, because I will make it my mission to destroy you. Are we perfectly clear?" The Grimm nodded, and Ambrose released him. The Blutbad walked over to Rebecca. He took her hand and rubbed it softly as she tried to calm herself.

"Miss Rebecca, I apologize for my associate. I realize that is not what you were expecting, and you have already had much more excitement today than you needed. May I introduce you to Mister Nathaniel Burke. Nat here was sent by the Sheriff of the county to be my deputy. He is also a Grimm, but I don't think he will be causing any more problems."

Rebecca tentatively held her hand out to Nat, who shook it. "Charmed," he said softly. She nodded, averting her eyes. She turned her attention back to Ambrose.

"I just spoke to Barty; he came to pick up my Pa, but he wants you to come down to his place directly, regarding the man who was shot…"

Ambrose nodded. "We'll go directly. Would you like me to stop by later to check on you? You've had a right difficult day…" He took her hand and squeezed it. She nodded. "Well then, I will see you tonight. I don't think anyone will be much offended if you take the rest of the day off and get some rest." She nodded again, continuing to avoid eye contact with the Grimm. As she left, she turned and stole one more longing glance at Ambrose. He didn't notice, but the Grimm did.

_Hey, baby, whose side are you on?_

_You think you got it all figured out, where we belong._

_Forget all about your dark from light,_

_Day from night, wrong from right._

_Good guys don't always wear white._

_Good guys don't always wear white._

"You're sweet on the Fuchsbau… I mean, Miss Rebecca." Nat stated as they walked down the street.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Well, what if I am? That doesn't change the fact we've got a dead man to deal with because of your foolishness. Come on, Barty's is this way… Barty is Bartholomew Caster, the undertaker."

"Have you gone courting? Did she reject you?"

"No, I've never…" Ambrose stopped in his tracks and turned to his new deputy, "Look, here's what you need to know about Becky: only child, mother died while she was young. Her father raised her to take over the shop, and when they first got here, she looked to be the best catch of them all. But when her father took ill, she was working so much that nobody could court her." He started walking again. "And yes, I'm sweet on her, been sweet on her since the first day we met… but she would never want a guy like me…"

"But have you asked her? Did she tell you this?"

Ambrose was getting frustrated. "NO, but…"

"I think she's sweet on you, too. She gave you a right pretty look when she was leaving, but you didn't see it."

"Are you just saying that to get me to make a fool of myself? …Here we are. This conversation is not over."

After Barty confirmed the dead Skalengeck was in fact Joel Wesley, wanted in six counties as Nat had said, Ambrose asked to see Thomas Cooke. Ambrose doffed his cap and put his hand on the corpse's shoulder, and promised old Tom aloud that he would take care of Becky, so help him.

"I've got a lot to learn," Nat said quietly as they left Barty's.

"You sure do, but you seem a smart fella. I think we'll be fine. Just remember, innocent until proven guilty, ya hear?"

_Don't always wear, don't always wear,_

_Don't always wear, don't always wear,_

_Good guys don't always wear white._

* * *

_Song: Good Guys Don't Always Wear White by Bon Jovi. From the boxed set 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can't Be Wrong, copyright 2004, Island Records._

_Yes, I have a major thing for Bon Jovi._


	16. Thief of Hearts

_More past life goodness! Do you guys like the past life stuff? If you don't, I can concentrate more on the current-life stuff..._

_Warning: This fic gets a little on the smutty side, but not full-blown smut. More like bad romance novel smut. _

_Reviews/ requests/ suggestions welcome. Want more past lives? Want more current universe? Want more Sergeant Wu? Want more smut? Want me to stop doing obscure Bon Jovi songs? I can't read your minds, you have to tell me!_

_I don't own anything except my dirty mind and dirty mouth._

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada**

_You can lock up all the doors,_

_Pull up the covers, turn out the lights._

_I'll know where you are; it's alright._

_You can go ahead and hide;_

_You know you can't keep me out._

_I'll find my way, I'm here to stay._

_Even the cops can't save you now._

_Hey, baby, there's nothing you can do;_

_Hey, baby, this isn't up to you._

_'Cause I am the thief of hearts;_

_Don't hide or try to run._

_I'll play the part, I'm the thief of hearts,_

_I've come to steal your love._

Nathaniel "Nat" Burke was slowly getting used to his new position in Ruby Hill. Under the guidance of Ambrose Dunn, the town Marshall, he was learning so much. He spent many nights recording information about many new species of Wesen in his family's books, including details about their interactions with each other and with him. Unless he had seen it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed that Wesen could live peacefully together as they did. Once the townspeople had (mostly) gotten over their fear of the Grimm, they all were able to coexist. Ambrose's leadership in the town was amazing to behold, and almost all of the problems in the town were kept within a very small area: the block between the Crippled Rooster Saloon and Miss Hettie's brothel. Occasionally there would be a roving band of outlaws or a lone rider to deal with, but these were few and far between. Nat got to know the ebb and flow of the small town but he was plotting.

Yes, Nat was fixin' to play matchmaker. He watched Ambrose deal with Miss Rebecca Cooke, now the owner and sole proprietor of the town' General Store and Druggist. Nat knew the Blutbad was in love with the Fuchsbau, and she with him. They would often steal longing glances at one another, accidentally brush against the other, and Ambrose usually couldn't talk to her or about her without affecting a right ridiculous-looking smile. He had it for her, bad. And Nat was aiming to do something about it.

It didn't come about quite the way he was expecting, but the opportunity presented itself near Thanksgiving, about 3 months after Nat rode into town. On his first day in town, Nat killed a Skalengeck named Joel Wesley, who was wanted for murder in six counties. What Nat had forgotten was that Joel's brothers were also wanted men, and one night, Jim and Jed Wesley and their Skalengeck posse rode into Ruby Hill looking for the man who killed their brother. Fortunately, between Ambrose and Nat they had a decent network of information, so the Marshall and his deputy knew the Skalengeck gang was coming; they were able to formulate something of a plan with a posse of their own. The plan did not go quite as it was supposed to, but the result was Jim Wesley dead and the rest of the gang wounded to varying degrees. However, at some point, Ambrose was thrown from his horse and lay in front of the General Store, cut up and barely breathing. He probably had some broken bones, too.

Rebecca was on standby to help, so Nat let out a whistle to let her know it was safe. When she saw Ambrose's crumpled body, she let out a shriek and ran to him.

"Oh my GOD, Nat, you didn't have to kill him!" She gently picked up his head and checked his breathing. "Oh my goodness, he looks hurt real bad. Nat, help me bring him inside."

_I'm the thief of hearts. _

_You can hold on to your heart,_

_You ain't gonna win._

_So go ahead and draw the blinds,_

_I'm still coming in._

_Hey baby, I'm gonna wear you down._

_Hey baby, you better listen to me now._

_I am the thief of hearts,_

_The shadow on your wall,_

_The whisper in your ear,_

_The footsteps in the hall._

_I am the thief of hearts;_

_Don't hide or try to run._

_I'll play the part, I'm the thief of hearts,_

_I've come to steal your love._

They cautiously moved the unconscious Blutbad into the store and up the stairs to Rebecca's apartment. Rebecca wanted to clean him off, so they deposited him carefully into the bathtub.

"I think I can handle this from here, Nat, thank you." Rebecca began to remove Ambrose's clothes as gently as she could. However, as the Grimm was leaving, Rebecca pulled out an Ace of Hearts from the Marshall's breast pocket. "What's this for?" And Nat saw his chance.

"The day I rode in, he took that off Rufus Bumble, who was using it to cheat. He calls it his Becky Card, like a good luck charm. Never goes anyplace without it. Good night, Miss Rebecca, take good care of him. I'll be by in the morning to check up on him." And he closed the door behind him. He hadn't lied; Ambrose did tend to fidget with the card while mouthing Becky's name, and Nat hoped that this might be the push needed to get the two together.

After Nat left, Rebecca held the Ace to her own heart. How sweet, he considered her his good luck charm! But if she was going to be any real luck, she needed to get him cleaned up. Before she continued undressing him, she decided it would be better for her clothing if she did this in her underclothes; she stripped down to her camisole and bloomers before continuing to undress him. She finished removing his shirt. She then removed his boots, and stood wondering whether or not she should remove his trousers. Part of her urged her to preserve his modesty and her own purity; the other part or her, the larger part of her, said she couldn't properly wash his wounds if she didn't know where they were… and she may never get this opportunity again. She quickly and quietly removed his trousers, and he was lying in her bathtub completely naked. She then took the bucket of water Nat had asked her to keep on hand and started washing his wounds. She couldn't help but drink in the sight of him. He was even more beautiful than she'd imagined all those nights when she laid awake thinking impure thoughts about him. She admired his muscles, his trim waist, his… well, she was a lady after all, but she admired his manhood as well. She'd never seen a naked man other than her father, and even that was only when he was ill and dying. This man was young and strong and… was he really in love with her? She had been in love with him since the first time he smiled at her and shook her hand. She smiled as she worked down his body, washing away the blood, sweat, and grime.

About the point where she was washing his stomach, he started to stir under her fingers. She smiled and kept going. He was obviously subconsciously excited by her touch, as he stiffened as she moved down his body. The fact that he was excited made her excited as well, and she carefully stole a few strokes as she cleaned his legs and feet. His ankle was swollen and turning blue, so that might give him some trouble, but other than that, they were mostly shallow cuts. When she was finished, she went back up to the part of him she found much more interesting and concentrated her attentions there. He was smooth, long, and thick. He was beautiful. He woke up while she was stroking him.

"Oh, I love this dream. This is my favorite dream." He slurred, and she couldn't help giggling.

"It's not a dream, Ambrose."

"Then I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead and in heaven, right?"

"Nope, wrong again." Ambrose went to sit up and winced in pain.

"Miss Rebecca, what… how…" She came back around to where his head was and pinched his cheek.

"You're not dreaming. You got busted up right badly, and Nat and I brought you up here…"

"Nat…"

"Nat left. It's just me and you and this bucket of water. Now, tell me about this favorite dream of yours…"

"Oh, Miss Rebecca, I didn't mean to be improper…"

She could no longer contain herself. She stopped his speech with a deep kiss. At first he was too shocked at what was going on, but when he realized this was real, he closed his eyes and stroked her hair. After a time they parted.

"Wow…" Ambrose breathed.

"Indeed. Do you think you can get up?"

Ambrose grabbed the sides of the tub and attempted to stand up, but his swollen ankle caused him to cry out in pain.

"Oh, right, I should have mentioned that. Here." She pulled him up into a sitting position, and, somehow, between the two of them, they managed to get him out of the tub and onto her bed. Whether by accident or on purpose, Rebecca ended up on top of him. They smiled at each other for a moment, and then proceeded to kiss whatever parts of the other they could reach.

"Do you love me?" Rebecca asked him.

"Yes! I've loved you since the day I met you!"

"Good. I love you, too. Since the day we met." Rebecca then felt as though she was wearing far too much clothing, even though she was basically in her underwear already.

"Wait, wait, stop…" He sat up, panting ,wincing in pain, "Miss Rebecca, what has gotten into you? What are you doing?"

"It's just… I thought you were a goner. It looked right bad… and then Nat told me you loved me, and, well, I wanted to let you know how I felt in case…" she looked like she was about to cry, and she snuggled against him.

He lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes. "That's fine, darlin', that's all I needed to know." He kissed her again, and she climbed on top of him.

_I'm the thief of hearts,_

_And hey baby, there's nothing you can do._

_And hey baby, you know there ain't no use._

_I am the thief of hearts,_

_Guilty of the charge._

_You can throw away the keys_

_And double up the bars._

_I am the thief of hearts;_

_Don't hide or try to run._

_I'll play the part, I'm the thief of hearts,_

_I've come to steal your love._

Ambrose woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. He sat up, feeling stiff and sore, and realized the bed was not his. Across the room, Rebecca was making breakfast in a rumpled camisole and bloomers. She smiled as she saw him sit up, and brought a cup of coffee over to him.

"Breakfast will be ready directly. Your ankle still looks bad, so I think you're gonna need to be off it for a few days. If you'd like to stay here, you can…"

"Do you want me to stay here?" he questioned as she brought him over a plate with some bacon, eggs, and bread.

She sat next to him, kissed his forehead, and said in a low voice "If you can do those things you did last night again, you can stay here long as you like!"

"So I didn't dream all that? It was real?"

She nodded, pulled his lucky ace out of her camisole, and handed it to him. "Sometimes reality can be better than dreams, right?"

Ambrose smiled as he drew her close. "I know this one is, my little Queen of Hearts."

_I'm the thief of hearts._

_I'm the thief of hearts._

_I'm the thief of hearts._

* * *

_Song: Thief of Hearts by Bon Jovi. From the boxed set 100,000,000 Bon Jovi Fans Can't Be Wrong, copyright 2004, Island Records._

_I think I need to do a smutty midquel series of just them hooking up in each lifetime..._


	17. With This Ring

_This was one of my favorite songs growing up- my dad used to always listen to the Oldies station, so I grew up with a lot of Motown and Soul... _

_Reviews/ Requests/ Suggestions always welcome! Don't let my wacky taste in music (entirely) dictate what you read... and always looking to discover more ;)_

_Same old song and dance, I own nothing but this ridiculously huge music collection... if only it generated money. _

_On a train-of-thought-ish note, if I could own the royalties to any songs ever, I would own We Will Rock You/ We Are The Champions by Queen. Those songs must make tons..._

* * *

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_They used to call me the wanderer, who never wanted to settle down,_

_But I'll tell you, baby, I wander no more, got to stay around, 'cause_

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

Monroe was looking around in his attic for a book for Nick when he knocked over the box.

"Crap!" He yelled at no one in particular as the contents of the box scattered all over. He stooped to begin picking up the rogue items. Jewelry. Lots of it. As he gathered the pieces, he looked each of them over. Maybe Rosalee would like to take some of it off his hands? Some of them were pretty old, and if she didn't want them, maybe they could sell them…

He picked up a ring that made him pause in his thoughts. It looked like white gold, and it was very intricately braided. However, its three stone settings sat empty. What could have gone there? Monroe's need to know fought against his OCD as he quickly scooped up the rest of the pieces and dumped them willy-nilly back into the box. He put the ring in his pocket for safekeeping, double-checked to make sure there were no other pieces on the floor, and hoisted the entire box on his shoulder and took it downstairs to his workbench.

_Got nothing but this old heart of mine; baby, please believe in me._

_Girl, you know, sweetheart, I'll always try to keep you satisfied, 'cause_

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

Once at his workbench, he gave in to his sense of urgency and upended the entire box onto the little table. Now to sort. He had to practice patience…

He sorted the pile into smaller piles: rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, pendants, pins and brooches, and miscellaneous bits. There was a lot of jewelry here, and a lot of it was probably worth something. The ring in his pocket felt like it was burning against his leg to hurry him. How very Lord of the Rings…

Once the main pile was broken down, Monroe concentrated on the loose stones in the miscellaneous bits pile. Before starting his own business, he had spent a good deal of time repairing watches at a jewelry store; while he was there, he also learned some jewelry appraisal and repair, and if he could just find the proper stones, he'd be able to reset them…

Wait, why was this so important? He stopped and stared at the pile before him. Yes, this was a beautiful ring, but what was the urgency? Why did the ring burn in his pocket? Why couldn't he just take the stones from another ring and set them in it instead? Why was he compelled to see it complete?

He felt like a dolt asking those questions, because he knew the answer. All of the answers were the same: Because this ring was meant for Rosalee. Whether or not he would admit it, he knew it was meant for her as surely as he knew his own name.

"Well, duh," he said to the pile, as if it had suggested this to him and it was the most obvious suggestion in the world. But in that moment, he came to a realization: he didn't want to give it to her so she would have a pretty piece of jewelry; he wanted to ask her to marry him with it. That realization hit him hard, almost physically. Why was that such a strange idea? They'd been dating awhile… in fact, they'd talked about her moving in… he loved her, she loved him… but were they marriage material?

_Baby, I never thought so much love could fit in a little band of gold,_

_But I'm telling you, darling, I feel it in my heart, got it in my soul, 'cause_

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

He leaned against the workbench, and in that moment, he saw it- a sapphire. Her birthstone, for September. It looked about the right size and shape. He picked it out of the pile, careful not to scatter any of the other gems, and took the ring from his pocket. He carefully placed the stone into the setting- it was a perfect fit, he would just need to secure it… but even with the stone sitting in it loose, he knew this was perfect. It wasn't traditional, but neither was she. Neither was their relationship. But like the stone into the setting, they just fit.

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

_With this ring, I promise I'll always love you, always love you._

* * *

_Song: With This Ring by the Platters. From the album All-Time Greatest Hits; originally released as a single in 1967, Musicor Records._


	18. Love Ain't for Keeping

_We need more people (and by people, I mean dorks like me) calling sunshowers "Kitsune weddings". Because life could use some more whimsy. _

_Reviews/ Requests/ Suggestions always welcome!_

_I own nothing, NOTHING!_

* * *

_Layin' on my back in the newly mown grass;_

_Rain's coming down, but I know the clouds will pass._

_You bring me tea, say, "The babe's a-sleepin'"_

_Lay down beside me, love ain't for keeping._

Rosalee watched Monroe mow the lawn as she washed the breakfast dishes. It was still strange to her, living in a house with a yard again. They had unpacked the last of her things last night, and there was a rather large pile waiting for the trip to Goodwill. There was a thunderstorm watch in effect, and Monroe wanted to cut the grass before it hit. Rosalee smiled, thinking how lucky she was to have a man like him. She decided to make him some iced tea; he was almost done, but the late-summer humidity and low air pressure was making for a very muggy day. If only that storm would hurry up and get here, cool everything off a little…

Monroe was watching the clouds as he pushed his little reel mower along. He didn't like the grass to be too high, especially now that Rosalee was here. He couldn't believe his luck, that she'd agreed to move in with him. He had finished setting the stones in her ring, THE ring. He had to be patient; he couldn't just ask her now after they'd completed such a big step. He was still thrilled at the prospect of waking up next to her every day, something that barely a year ago he wouldn't have even allowed himself to dream.

_Black ash from the foundry hangs like a hood,_

_But the air is perfumed by the burning firewood._

_The seeds are bursting, the spring is seeping;_

_Lay down beside me, love ain't for keeping._

_Lay down beside me, love ain't for keeping._

By the time Monroe finished the yard, the sky started spitting. Someone nearby must be using a fire pit, because the beautiful smell of burning wood was drifting through the neighborhood. It made him think of autumn. Halloween! They should have a Halloween party... Hey, maybe he could propose to her then... But right now, he just wanted to lay down and enjoy what was around him. The smell of the freshly cut grass mixed with the wood smoke. The rain was now a little more resolute, but still light and misty. The clouds were a beautiful dark silver, but the sun was still trying to shine through. Rosalee was standing over him, looking like an angel in the rain… Wait, Rosalee was standing over him. The next thing he knew, she had lain down on the grass next to him, offering him a glass of iced tea. She leaned back on her elbows, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue in hopes of catching some raindrops. He scooted closer to her, and took a sip of the tea. He loved when she made tea, she always made it just right. He looked up at her again, watching the drops cling to her face… she was radiant.

"You know," she said quietly after a few moments, "in Japanese folklore, sunshowers are called kitsune weddings. Kitsune is Japanese for…"

"Fox." Monroe finished for her. She looked surprised. "It was in one of Nick's books. That's what the Japanese believed the Fuchsbau were. It means something like 'Always Faithful' and is based on a story of one who married a human and would come to him every night a human and leave every morning a fox. It's actually a very sweet story..." He stopped talking and just looked at her smiling at him. The moment was absolutely beautiful, he wanted to remember all of it- the smells, the feel of the rain on his skin, her closeness and warmth, her smile, how she shone against the dark silver...

"You're so smart." She leaned in closer to him.

"I must be. I figured out how to get you, didn't I?" She chuckled as he kissed her in the rain.

_Lay down beside me, love ain't for keeping._

_Lay down my darling, love ain't for keeping._

* * *

_Song: Love Ain't for Keeping by The Who. From the album Who's Next, copyright 1971, Decca Records._


	19. Question

_I was asked to provide the proposal haha. This originally appeared as Chapter 5 (a filler chapter) in my smutfic Heat. When I started this series, I was actually very mad at myself because I had the perfect song, but already wrote the story... so I added some edits and the song. I love this song so much, and if you've never heard it, you should. Seriously. If you need to propose to someone, this song is the one to use. Also, mad shout out to the OTPest of OTPs- Morticia and Gomez Addams!_

_Reviews/ Suggestions/ Comments welcome! _

_I own nothing. Shmoop ho!_

* * *

_She woke from a dream,_

_Her head was on fire._

_Why was he so nervous?_

_He took her to the park._

_She crossed her arms_

_And lowered her eyelids._

_Some day somebody's gonna ask you_

_A question that you should say yes to once in your life._

_Maybe tonight I've got a question for you._

_She'd had no idea,_

_Started to cry;_

_She said in a good way._

_He took her by the hand,_

_Walked her back home;_

_They took the long way._

_Some day somebody's gonna ask you_

_A question that you should say yes to once in your life._

_Baby, tonight I've got a question for you..._

_I've got a question for you._

They had been living together for a while and Monroe had insisted on having a Halloween party. He loved Halloween, and Rosalee loved to see the sparkle in his eyes when he was decorating the house. They invited Nick and Juliette, Hank, Bud the Eisbiber and his wife, Captain Reynard, Roddy and his girlfriend Ana, and some other local Wesen. It was a costume party, and, although they initially disagreed on what they wanted to do (neither had ever done a couple's costume before), they decided it would be fun to be Gomez and Morticia Addams after seeing a rerun on TV. Monroe had made a comment about how he loved the dynamic between the two of them, and that their relationship seemed truly special. They had been able to find most of the things they needed at local thrift shops. When he walked in, with his hair slicked back and a huge cigar in his teeth, it had taken all of her strength to not just cancel the party and spend the night upstairs, just the two of them, role playing. He likewise had been very noticeably excited by her form-fitting black dress and pale makeup… but they couldn't cancel so suddenly…

The evening was going well when Monroe had cut the music and raised his glass, which contained pumpkin juice mixed with vodka.

"I'd like to thank all of you for being here tonight, because I am about to do possibly the stupidest and most embarrassing thing I have ever done…" He stepped closer to Rosalee and fumbled around in his pocket. "Uh… well… "

Keep it together, dude! He was screaming at himself. Don't panic, and definitely don't Woge… He felt the impulse coming and he fought against it. Breathe. Stay calm. The worst she can say is no, right? In front of everybody? And move out and never speak to him again?

"The first time I met Rosalee, I couldn't imagine things ending up as they have. It just seemed to… out of the ordinary, you know? But…" He trailed off.

No, she was thinking. He couldn't be doing this... He would never… She felt her breath catch excitedly. Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh he was! Wait, no, hear him out… Don't Woge, don't Woge…

He suddenly seemed to find a solid emotion and resolutely dropped to one knee. It seemed like the entire rest of the party disappeared and it was just him and just her. He looked up at her, looking ravishing, and stated, with absolute certainty, "I'm glad we took that chance. I love you, Rosalee, and I want to love you even more, every day for the rest of our lives. Rosalee Calvert, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" He extended the item he had been fidgeting with, a ring box, open, revealing a beautifully intricate sapphire ring. Her birthstone, September. It was flanked by two small diamonds. She couldn't tell, but the setting looked old. Vintage. Antique, even. He had a lot of inherited stuff, so it could be an heirloom of some sort…

She was so drawn into the ring's beauty she forgot to speak. She stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity to Monroe. She didn't like the ring, did she? He had felt so strongly that this ring was meant for her, he made such a mess to find the missing stones. He had reset the stones himself while she was at the shop. He thought that the sapphire was a sign... She had wanted a diamond, hadn't she? She didn't want to get married. They hadn't discussed it in depth, but he thought she wanted to get married…

He was so busy freaking out inside his own head that he didn't notice she had knelt on the floor with him, tears streaming down her face, cutting flesh-colored lines in the white makeup, when she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

"Yes," she whispered. "YES!" she repeated, slightly louder. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she punctuated each yes with a kiss. All around them laughed, cheered, and applauded the happy couple. Nobody knew who was more surprised- Rosalee for being proposed to, or Monroe that she said yes. But really, why wouldn't she? They clearly adored each other and had been through a lot together, drawing them closer together, forging a strong bond.

After the party had dispersed into the night, with many congratulations, well-wishes, and promises of guidance and assistance, Rosalee found Monroe putting some perishable items into the refrigerator.

"I think that was the best party ever," she commented. They were both still in costume, and she had an idea… "What do you think, Mr. Addams?"

He smiled. "If you think that was a great party, wait 'til you see the wedding reception, Cara Mia." Oh, he was game to play along… but crap, she didn't know much French…

"I'm sure it will have a certain… je ne sais quoi…" He walked over, still smiling. He took her hand and kissed it.

"Rosalee, you spoke French!" He kissed up her arm.

"Oui!" she giggled.

"I think this calls for a celebration, Querida!" He swept her up, honeymoon style, costume and all, and carried her upstairs to their bed.

* * *

_Song: Question by Old '97s. From the album Satellite Rides, copyright 2001, Elektra Records. _


	20. Teach Your Children

_This one was so hard to find a song to go with. Since, as I mentioned, my Grimm fics are personal fanon and therefore all follow the same timeline and rules, it made sense to have to have a conversation explaining Entzünden; I mean, if I were them, I'd tell them about it, too._

_As always, reviews/ suggestions/ requests welcome!_

_I own nothing; however, if I did, I would do a Wesen genetics lesson on the show. I seriously can't be the only one who wants to know how interbreeding works in-universe. And I would of course do it in the most logical way... by having Monroe and Rosalee have a baby and explain it to Juliette... _

* * *

_You who are on the road_

_Must have a code that you can live by,_

_And so become yourself_

_Because the past is just a goodbye_

_Teach your children well;_

_Their father's hell did slowly go by._

_And feed them on your dreams,_

_The one they picked, the one you'll know by._

_Don't you ever ask them why; if they told you, you would cry._

_So just look at them and sigh and know they love you._

_And you, of tender years _

_(Can you hear? And do you care?)_

_Can't know the fears that your elders grew by._

_(And can't you see we must be free to)_

_And so please help them with your youth;_

_(Teach your children what you believe in?)_

_They seek the truth before they can die._

_(Make a world that we can live in.)_

_Teach your parents well;_

_Their children's hell will slowly go by._

_And feed them on your dreams,_

_The one they picked, the one you'll know by._

_Don't you ever ask them why; if they told you, you would cry._

_So just look at them and sigh and know they love you._

Sophia, Keith, and Kelly sat on the couch watching their father pace. Their mother, Rosalee, was seated in a nearby chair, massaging her temples. 18 year-old Sophia's arms were crossed and she stared angrily at her feet. Kelly looked at her twin, and the 15 year-olds shared nervous glances. What was this all about? Sophia had said something to their parents which caused their father to call a family meeting, and now he was pacing, trying to figure out where to start.

"Okay," he began slowly, taking deep breaths, "Soph, the first thing I want you to understand is I'm not mad at you, your mother isn't mad at you, and we're glad you told us…"

"Told them what?" Keith asked.

Sophia looked at her father, her eyes flashing red. Like her father, she had a remarkable talent for controlling herself.

"Neil and I went all the way." Her curt reply, as well as the sudden TMI, made Keith stare at his shoes as well.

"And while I think that you're a little young, you've always been very mature, and I know that you and Neil love and respect each other… and I'm glad you were mature enough to let us know so your mother can start making you contraceptives. However, this brings up the fact that we need to have a talk as a family about the Seltenvögel and the Mellifer…"

"Oh my God, Dad, we KNOW where babies come from. We all passed Biology class. Some of us are even taking AP Bio, if you recall…" Sophia began, obviously still angry. To everyone's surprise, Rosalee spoke up.

"You know Kehrseite biology. They don't teach Wesen biology. And this conversation isn't for you as much as it's for your siblings, so please adjust your attitude, young lady."

"US?" Kelly squeaked as Keith looked up from his shoes. "Why is this about us?"

Monroe took a deep breath and continued, "Because there are certain things that affect certain Wesen. I'm sure you all don't need to be reminded that this technically a blended family. We have told all of you time and time again that in the Wesen world, this is an unusual situation… not as unusual as a Wesen dating a future Grimm, but anyway… and I seem to remember a certain young lady here getting detention for chasing down and biting Johnny Thompson for calling her "halfbreed" when she was 7…" he paused and looked meaningfully at his daughter, who smiled in spite of herself. "But the fact is, Sophia and my DNA is fundamentally different than your mother's, Keith's, and Kelly's. Not incompatible, obviously, or we wouldn't have had you…"

"Honey, you're rambling." Rosalee interjected. "Look," she continued, leaning forward toward her children, "what your father is trying to say is, Fuchsbau to Fuchsbau, there is something very important both of you need to know about your biology so you can make an informed decision about whether you're ready for sex… We're not too late, right?" She looked up as the twins shook their heads in unison. "Good. Now, Do you know when my birthday is?"

"September 17th." All the children answered in unison.

"And when are your birthdays?"

"May 9th," answered Sophia.

"September 23rd," the twins answered in unison.

Rosalee nodded. "As you go out into the world and meet more Wesen, you're going to find that a lot of Fuchsbau have birthdays in September. There's a reason for that. Have any of you ever heard of Entzünden?" All three teenagers shook their heads. Rosalee drew a deep breath before she continued. "When a Fuchsbau female has sex for the first time, it sets off a biological trigger. The January after you become sexually active, you will experience your first Entzünden. It will hit without warning, but your body will be driven to mate until the biological imperative is fulfilled. It will continue to happen every two years until menopause."

"OH MY GOD," Sophia shrieked as realization washed over her, "is that what was up with the 'special sleepovers' we would have with the Burkhardts and the Wurstners? So you guys could screw?"

"That might be oversimplifying a bit, but yeah," Monroe spoke up, "But this lust totally overrides your logic. The first time your mother had one after we married, she drugged and handcuffed me." He smirked with some satisfaction at his children's disgusted looks.

Rosalee rolled her eyes. "The other weird thing is that if you don't have sex for a certain period of time, you don't have your Entzünden. It varies from woman to woman, but it's usually something like 6 months. It shuts itself off, but the next one you have is that much stronger. It's meant so that Fuchsbau females in stable relationships can have their kits safely. Fuchsbau pregnancies conceived during Entzünden like yours have very few complications. Obviously, you can get pregnant outside of Entzünden," she nodded toward her eldest, "But they're a little more difficult."

Monroe finally sat down next to his wife and looked at each of his children. Sophia, who looked exactly like a younger version of her mother with slightly darker hair; Keith, already almost as tall as his father with dark hair worn about chin-length, bangs currently covering one eye; his eyes were a dark blue, so dark they were almost black. Then his gaze fell upon Kelly, the younger of the twins by 12 minutes. She demonstrated the most of her Germanic heritage: tall, strongly built, dirty blonde hair. She also displayed heterochromia, with one green eye and one brown eye, although she tended to cover it up with brown contacts. Monroe hoped one day she would embrace the beauty of her mismatched eyes.

"So, yes, Kelly, this is mostly for your benefit, but Sophia, if you have any female Fuchsbau friends whose parents may not want to talk to their daughters… and Keith…"

Kelly was looking at Keith expectantly. Keith looked back at his twin and sighed.

"Well, I guess now is as good a time as any." Keith stood and now he began to pace (definitely his father's son). "Mom, Dad, while I appreciate the, um, information you just gave us… uh…" he looked once again to his twin, who made a 'come on' hand motion, "I'm, uh, not going to need it… I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time…" Rosalee and Monroe exchanged confused looks.

"Oh my God, Keith, if you don't spill it, I will!" Kelly exclaimed with frustration.

"I'm gay! There, Kelly, geez!" Keith shyly looked over at his parents, flipping his hair to try to get it out of his eye. His parents looked at each other, and, for some reason, started laughing. Rosalee was the first to calm herself enough to speak.

"Honey, we knew when you were 6 and wanted to marry Uncle Hank AND Uncle Sean. It's fine. Come here!" Keith walked over and his parents embraced him. Monroe ruffled his son's hair.

"Same thing I've told your sisters- any man mistreats you, and they're going to have me and Nick to contend with, and you know we've busted some heads… and other things… together. Come on, girls, family hug!" The girls giggled, and the family embraced, surrounded by the glow of knowledge and love.

* * *

_Song: Teach Your Children by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. From the album Déjà Vu, copyright 1969, Atlantic Records._


	21. Beaches In Mind

_I wanna go to the beach... And also, I just want to say that I have never wanted to go to the Northwestern US (because here on the East Coast, all we hear about is Starbucks and rain around there...), but this show kinda makes me want to visit Portland. Or at least go to Voodoo Doughnuts. Their website lists their doughnuts, and I want to try all of them. They look amazing._

_Reviews/ Comments/ Requests welcome!_

_As always, I own nothing. If I did, I would probably weigh a lot more from going to Portland and eating Voodoo Doughnuts all the time. _

* * *

_We got beaches in mind._

_Man, it's been too much time._

Monroe got everything ready while Rosalee was at work. Rosalee was stressed out: there was a heat wave in Portland that was keeping her super-busy at the shop; plus a seeming spike in Wesen-related crime that meant they spent most nights helping Nick and Hank; oh, and the wedding was only three months away. Monroe resolved to take her on a day trip, just the two of them. He decided a beach trip to Seaside, Oregon, about an hour and a half away. He gathered her bathing suit, beach towel, flip-flops, changes of clothes, and sunscreen into a duffel bag. He found his big beach umbrella and shoved it into the trunk of his Bug. He was so excited, he almost forgot to call Nick.

"Burkhardt." Nick answered.

"Hey, it's me. Listen, I just wanted to let you know, I'm surprising Rosalee with a day trip to Seaside tomorrow. So if you could, you know…"

"Day trip for the lovebirds, leave them alone. Got it… but what if the Grimmling makes his appearance? Juliette was having some contractions earlier…"

"Okay, that's the exception. But no calls over dead bodies, or poison, or any of that nonsense, understood?"

"Got it. Feed the seals at the Aquarium for us. They're Juliette's favorite."

"Will do. Have a good one."

With that out of the way, Monroe checked and double checked his driving directions, and put them in the Bug's glove box. For once, he didn't have a plan set in stone for the trip… and he didn't want one. They were going to relax and see where the day took them. The only requirement is seeing her in that bathing suit, he thought to himself. He loved that bathing suit on her… well, he loved anything on her. Especially anything he got to take off. It was a one piece, but with a low-cut back that drove him crazy. Oh, yeah, and it was red. She always looked so lovely in red. He smiled; man, he was lucky. He gathered up his swim trunks, sunglasses, and other items and tucked them out of sight. He was so bad about surprising her, because he always got so excited. The only way he'd managed to keep the proposal a secret was wrapping it inside the excitement of the Halloween party. He still couldn't believe she said yes, and in three months, she was going to be officially, legally his, and he hers.

Rosalee came home looking exhausted. Many of the Wesen with denser fur needed special creams and potions to keep them from overheating. They desperately needed some rain or something to break this heat wave… It was a good thing she was off tomorrow.

_Woke me up before dawn;_

_Wish I could sleep some more so I could carry on_

_With the dream I've been meaning to make come true, _

_And that's to get away with you._

_I think we all can agree that there's no better place for us to be._

_We can drive on for miles 'til we're finally free; it'll just be you and me._

_We got beaches in mind._

_Man, it's been too much time._

_Not a care in the world is where I wanna be…_

Monroe woke up at sunrise and nuzzled his bride-to-be gently to wake her up. She smiled and flipped over to greet him face to face.

"Hi."

"Good morning, my Queen. If it pleases you, I have arranged for an escape today. Just the two of us. So get dressed, we'll stop at Voodoo for some doughnuts and coffee, and we'll be on our way!"

"Where are we going, dear sir?"

"That is for me to know, and you to find out!" He punctuated the last sentiment by booping her on the nose, and then scurrying into the bathroom before she could object.

Rosalee smiled. He was so sweet. She rolled out of bed, stretched, and went about getting herself ready.

A little while later, coffee and doughnuts in hand, Monroe's little Bug rolled out of Portland toward the coast. It was a beautiful day.

_South Bay surfing again;_

_Haven't been this way in I don't know when._

_If I have my say, we'll be back again,_

_Where the good times never end._

_We got beaches in mind._

_Man, it's been too much time._

_Not a care in the world is where I wanna be,_

_With the surfers, sand and the sea._

_We'll find a place in the sun,_

_Where everyone can have fun, fun, fun._

They arrived in Seaside around 9 am, as the town was starting to come alive. They spent most of the day on the beach and playing in the Pacific. Around three, a thunderstorm appeared, and they packed up their beach gear and headed over to the Aquarium. They took pictures of the seals and sent them to Juliette and Nick. They were eating dinner at Maggie's on the Prom when the rain subsided; and they watched the sunset as they waded in the ocean together.

"Today was wonderful, Monroe, thank you."

"You're welcome. You needed it."

They kissed as the sun faded from view.

_We got beaches in mind._

_Man, it's been too much time._

_Not a care in the world is where I wanna be,_

_With the surfers, sand and the sea._

_We got beaches in mind._

_Man, it's been too much time._

_Not a care in the world is where I wanna be,_

_Beaches in mind._

* * *

_Song: Beaches in Mind by the Beach Boys. From the album That's Why God Made the Radio, copyright 2012, Capitol Records_


	22. Forever, Now and Then

_I just wanted to do a quick little ficlet about what happens between lives in my head. Mostly because I'm on a Clem Snide kick._

_Also, I read some spoilers for Season 3, and I almost died of Squee. I hope everything turns out alright... I just can't believe they're making us wait til October! Oh well, I'll take what I can get. And we may get some answers about Wesen genetics after all! Huzzah!_

_Reviews, comments, suggestions, song requests welcome and encouraged!_

_Did everyone give up on the Easter Egg in Kiss Me Slowly? Oh well. I'll give it a few more fics... _

_I own nothing, as usual._

* * *

_I dreamt of an ocean blue,_

_Underwater, you and me._

_Let's not swim to shore;_

_Just float forever more._

There was no pain. There was just light and nothingness. He once again was in the Great Expanse. His body as he knew it had faded, and all the memories came rushing back. He was Amun. He was Sophus. He was Wolfram, Ambrose, Raymond, Monroe, and many more. He remembered who he was and where he was… but where was she?

_We could hide behind the sun,_

_Where no one will upset our fun._

_Let's take off our shoes_

_And dance away the blues._

Although he had no body, no form, he tried to stretch out. He sought her warmth. He called to her without speaking, by all the names she had ever gone by and would ever go by: "Beset! Lysandra! Rosamunde! Rebecca! Marina! Rosalee! Rosa! ... Where are you? Please come to me!"

He became aware that she was beside him, and he felt her warmth… well, it wasn't warmth per se, but there was definitely a change in the space when she was close to him. It was the feeling of pure love.

"I am here. You know I won't leave until we're ready."

"Okay," he conceded, "when do you think that will be? Because I think I'd like to stay like this a while."

"That's fine. You know I will be right here. I love you."

"And I you, my dear."

_Was your sweet kiss just a dream?_

_So real, the taste of tangerine._

_You are my best friend_

_Forever, now and then._

_Forever, now and then._

_Forever, now and then._

* * *

_Song: Forever, Now and Then by Clem Snide. From the album Soft Spot, copyright 2003, spinART Records. _


	23. Who Wants to Live Forever

_This one broke my heart to write, but I had to pour it out so I could make room for more ideas... blast these accursed feels..._

_Trigger warning: Character death._

_I own nothing._

* * *

**Kingdom of Germany**

_There's no time for us,_

_There's no place for us._

_What is this thing that builds our dreams_

_Yet slips away from us?_

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Who wants to live forever?_

They came in the night. Wolfram wasn't even sure how they found them; they lived in their own little hut in the mountains, with a little garden, some chickens, and a cow. They only went into the town a few times a year… but now, he was being roughly removed from the bed he shared with Rosamunde. She started to scream, and was gagged for her trouble. She couldn't run, she couldn't fight; she was too heavy with child. His child. Their child.

_There's no chance for us;_

_It's all decided for us._

_This world has only one sweet moment_

_Set aside for us. _

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Who wants to live forever?_

They were dragged out of their hut, and the small clearing was alight with torches. Wolfram's heart dropped to his stomach. The multitude was dressed in black with hoods, and there was a stake and a pyre waiting. While they had not married, the fact that Rosamunde was pregnant was enough evidence that they had broken the _Reinheitsgebot_, the purity laws. Whoever these black-clad figures were, they knew their crime. And now they had to face judgment.

_Who dares to love forever?_

_Oh, when love must die. _

_But touch my tears to your lips;_

_Touch my world with your fingertips,_

_And we can have forever,_

_And we can love forever._

_Forever is our today._

As they were tied back to back on the stake, Wolfram's hand found Rosamunde's.

"I'm sorry…" was all he could say. He knew he was a criminal and should have been burned many times before… but his beautiful Rosamunde was about to be killed because he had dared love her. He could not tell if the tears were from the smoke, or the fact that they were about to meet such a brutal end.

"I would not have traded it for a hundred lifetimes without you." She responded calmly and confidently, and squeezed his fingers as the flames drew closer. She never was one to panic.

He squeezed back as hard as he could. "I love you, mein spatzi. Thank you."

"I love you, too. We shall always be one." She closed her eyes against the smoke as the flames rose around them.

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Who wants to live forever?_

_Forever is our today._

_Who waits forever anyway?_

* * *

_Song: Who Wants to Live Forever by Queen. From the album A Kind of Magic, copyright 1985, EMI Records._


	24. Better Days

_So filming for season 3 started in Portland today... I'm kinda glad I don't live there, because I'd be stalking the hell out of them haha... and I also realized that we might finally have the writers declare once and for all whether Monroe is his first or last name! (He doesn't strike me as an Eddie, though... he just doesn't. Yes, I know, but it doesn't quite fit, unless it's short for something like Edison. For some reason the name Edison Monroe cracks me up...)_

_In other news, I am still so sad that half of one of my OTPs (Finchel from Glee) died in real life. It's the writers' jobs to sink my ships, not real life's..._

_I, as always, own nothing but my obsessions and my feels..._

* * *

_Well my soul checked out missin' as I sat listenin'_

_To the hours and minutes tickin' away._

_Yeah, just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin_

_While it was all just slippin' away._

_I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come,_

_Or that train to come roarin' 'round the bend._

_I've got a new suit of clothes, a pretty red rose,_

_And a woman I can call my friend._

_These are better days, baby._

_Yeah, there's better days shining through._

_These are better days, baby,_

_Better days with a girl like you._

Monroe woke in his bed. To his surprise, Rosalee was asleep next to him. He was naked; a quick peek under the covers confirmed that she was, too. Then it wasn't a dream? No, he could smell the evidence; this was reality.

He watched her chest move up and down with each breath she took. How did he end up here? The most beautiful, most caring, most intelligent, bravest woman he had ever known was naked in his bed after a night of lovemaking. His thoughts took him back to the night he met Nick. He remembered the rush of crashing through the window, tackling the Grimm, and then cracking jokes as Nick was trying to puzzle out his new life path. Nick's insistence on Monroe's continued help, and being bribed with a bottle of wine, when Monroe would have much preferred to continue his hermit existence, just him and his clocks. The Lassie jokes. Being beaten by Reapers. Freddy's death, which, while sad, brought Rosalee to him. Sleeping on the couch that night to protect her. Her saving his life by bashing a guy with a brick. Helping her at the spice shop. Saving her ex. The race to save Juliette. Dealing with Nick's mom, and realizing for a fact he loved Rosalee when she dared hug Kelly Burkhardt. Their interrupted picnic and the first time she kissed him, only to realize she was infected. Him kissing her while listening to zither music… before being rudely interrupted by Angelina and that whole thing. Worrying that he would never see Rosalee again. Rosalee's homecoming. Finding out her family's role with the Wesen Council. Returning the lifesaving favor by throwing that Zeigevolk lawyer into the wall. Slowly, cautiously falling for her every step of the way… And last night's leap of faith. He was glad he'd come out of his Den and started inviting others in. He lightly ran his fingers over her body; the feel of her skin electrified him. She stirred under his touch, and rolled over onto his chest. She opened her eyes and smiled.

"Hi."

"Good morning, my Lady."

"I would ask if that was a dream, but I already know the answer; I think walking might hurt a little today…" he must have looked distressed, because she quickly clarified. "Oh, no, no, it's a good thing. I haven't felt like this in a long time, if ever. I'm just so happy it was with you!"

"I'm happy, too." Monroe said as he kissed her forehead.

_Well, I took a piss at Fortune's sweet kiss;_

_It's like eatin' caviar and dirt._

_It's a sad, funny ending to find yourself pretending,_

_A rich man in a poor man's shirt._

_Now my ass was draggin', when from a passin' gypsy wagon,_

_Your heart like a diamond shone._

_Tonight I'm layin' in your arms, carvin' lucky charms_

_Out of these hard luck bones._

_These are better days, baby._

_These are better days, it's true._

_These are better days,_

_There's better days shining through._

Monroe woke in a bed that wasn't theirs. Rosalee was still asleep on his chest. He was naked. So was she. He smiled as he stroked her hand; her sapphire and diamond engagement ring was now coupled with a white gold band. He ran his left hand through her hair, and watched the ring on his own finger reflect the light through her hair. He looked around at the room. They were in a stateroom on a cruise ship heading for Alaska. They hadn't really taken time to look at their room last night when they got back from dinner… The light shining in the window from the balcony made him guess it was about 8 am. Monroe again thought about how he'd ended up where he was. Taking a chance on befriending a Grimm, which led him to this beauty asleep beside him. And now they were married! Married! It was still new enough that he loved the sound of it. Married! He continued absently stroking her hair as he thought, and she woged in her sleep; he playfully scratched her ear. She swatted his hand away, and he can't help but laugh. His laughter and the movement of his chest brought her out of her slumber.

"Hi," she mumbled, before attempting to burrow into his chest away from the light.

"Hi. What's the matter, did I wear you out?"

"Maybe. It's too bright…" she yawned and stretched. The covers clinging to her body lost their fight with gravity, and she was exposed to her husband's lustful glance. Seeing the change in her husband's expression, she laughed gently, trailing a line of kisses up his neck.

"Well, I supposed I didn't do my wifely duty of wearing _you_ out… maybe we can remedy this in the shower before breakfast?"

"I personally think that is an excellent idea…"

_Now a life of leisure and a pirate's treasure_

_Don't make much for tragedy;_

_But it's a sad man, my friend, who's livin' in his own skin_

_And can't stand the company. _

_Every fool's got a reason for feelin' sorry for himself_

_And turning his heart to stone. _

_Tonight this fool's halfway to heaven _

_And just a mile outta hell,_

_And I feel like I'm comin' home._

_These are better days, baby_

_These are better days, it's true._

_These are better days,_

_Better days with a girl like you._

Monroe woke in their bed. Rosalee was already awake, her head on his chest. He was naked. So was she. She was rubbing the bump of her stomach. Their baby. Specifically, their baby girl.

"Hi," he said as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. "You're up early. I thought I wore you out last night… Unless you're ready for more? These hormones are turning you into quite the little sex machine, I don't know if I'll be able to keep up…"

"She started kicking this morning."

Monroe was smiling one of his megawatt smiles as he started rubbing her belly as well. Unfortunately, at this moment the baby had no interest in making her presence known.

"Oh well, maybe later…" Rosalee sighed as she snuggled closer to her husband. "I was also thinking about how lucky I am. All the things that led us here, all the decisions we made, everything leading up to this…"

"I think about that a lot, too. And it all goes back to Nick mistaking me for a murderer. Amazing how that works sometimes…"

"And how, sad as it is, if I hadn't lost Freddy, I would have never found you."

"That, too. Come here, beautiful…"Monroe cupped her cheeks and kissed his wife, the woman carrying his child. She gently rearranged herself so her bump was resting on his stomach. As they were kissing, the child kicked where her mother's body met her father's. Monroe stopped kissing Rosalee and his hands once again found the bump. The little girl started kicking harder, as if she wanted to let them both know for sure she was there. Rosalee looked at her husband, and found his eyes shining with tears. He wiped them away, but they remained in his voice when he spoke.

"I think... I think this is the best moment of my life… I love you so much… I love her so much… I… just… love…"

Rosalee cut him off with a kiss, as their little girl continued to dance, surrounded by her parents' love.

_These are better days, baby._

_These are better days, it's true._

_These are better days,_

_Better days are shining through._

* * *

_Song: Better Days by Bruce Springsteen. From the album Lucky Town, copyright 1992, Columbia Records._


	25. Crash and Burn

_I own nothing. I think this is the shortest A/N I've written yet..._

* * *

It was early November. Monroe sadly put away the last of his Halloween decorations with Rosalee's help. His new wife made him promise that there would be no Christmas decoration until at least Thanksgiving.

"It drives me crazy!" she whined when he protested. "Poor Thanksgiving never gets any love! It's Christmas carols and decorations the day after Halloween! It's sad!"

"Okay, no Christmas until Thanksgiving. Besides, I have so much to be thankful for!" He pulled her close and nipped her neck. She laughed and kissed his forehead.

_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you,_

_Give me a moment, please, _

_To tame your wild, wild heart._

_I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you;_

_It's hard to find relief, and people can be so cold._

_When darkness is upon your door _

_And you feel like you can't take anymore…_

_Let me be the one you call;_

_If you jump, I'll break your fall,_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night._

_If you need to fall apart,_

_I can mend a broken heart;_

_If you need to crash, then crash and burn, _

_You're not alone._

That night, Monroe awoke with a start. Something was burning. A fire alarm went off somewhere. Somewhere inside the house. Monroe shook Rosalee to wake her.

"Wha…" she began, but she smelled it, too.

Both of them bolted out of bed. Rosalee grabbed their phones and a charger, while Monroe threw her a pair of shoes and her coat. They ran down the stairs to find their porch engulfed in flames. The fire extinguisher in the kitchen would be no match for it. They ran out the back door and looped around the front. Not only was their porch on fire, but there were flames in the grass as well. The flames in the lawn spelled out PWO.

"Shit." Monroe fumbled for his phone. Rosalee was already on the phone with 911; he needed to call Nick.

"Burkhardttt…" a lisping voice came from the other end.

"NICK. Get up, man, and get over here. Shit just got real."

Rosalee, normally the calmest under pressure, was on the verge of tears. Monroe's home, her home, seemed to be disappearing before her eyes. Maybe it was just the smoke, maybe the fear from seeing the PWO calling card. She latched on to her husband, looking around wildly to see if there was still anyone there. Monroe did his best to calm her. His house wasn't important; the clocks, the antiques, none of it mattered right now so much as the fact that she was safe with him. He stroked her hair, and whispered things in her ear to try to calm her, while also looking around for anybody questionable.

_When you feel all alone,_

_And a loyal friend is hard to find;_

_You're caught in a one-way street_

_With the monsters in your head._

_When hopes and dreams are far away and_

_You feel like you can't face the day…_

_Let me be the one you call;_

_If you jump, I'll break your fall,_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night._

_If you need to fall apart,_

_I can mend a broken heart;_

_If you need to crash, then crash and burn, _

_You're not alone._

Nick arrived even before the fire department, and at the sight of him, Rosalee started sobbing. Nick rubbed his eyes, clearly trying to process what he was seeing in his sleep-deprived mind. He got that familiar "Oh, shit" look on his face when he saw the letters burning in the lawn. He ran over to them.

"Are you okay? Are either of you hurt?" Rosalee couldn't speak, so she shook her head while attempting to burrow further into Monroe's arms. Monroe held her closer.

"No. But I guess we don't need to try to figure out a motive, do we." Monroe's voice sound strangely robotic and distant. He looked at Nick again before trying to calm his wife. When the fire trucks finally arrived, Nick walked a little distance away and called Renard.

"What?" came the groggy reply on the other end.

"Sir, it's Burkhardt. Monroe and Rosalee's house was set on fire. They left a PWO calling card."

"Damnit, I was hoping that wouldn't happen; they're such good people. Do they have a place to stay?"

"They're staying with me. I owe them that much, at least…"

"Okay. Be on the lookout for anyone suspicious in black. We'll get Arson on it first thing."

Nick walked back over to his friends, who were watching the firefighters. Rosalee had calmed down significantly, but was still sniffling. Monroe was stroking her hair and whispering to her quietly, and Nick wouldn't have been able to tell if not for his super-hearing.

"It's okay, babe, I'm not gonna let anything get you. We're here, we're safe, together. I've got you… and Nick's here. They won't dare do anything with Nick here… and if they do, we'll kick their asses. It's okay…"

"I called Renard. He's going to get Arson on it first thing in the morning. Why don't you guys come back to our place? Grimmling should be waking up soon…"

Rosalee nodded and walked, almost dazed, towards Nick's car. Monroe sighed, looking from his wife to his house. He suddenly looked exhausted.

"Thanks, man…"

"No problem. After everything you two have done for me, I'm not about to leave you hanging. Let me talk to the fire chief and then we'll go, okay?"

Monroe nodded, took one more look at his home, and walked in the direction of Nick's car and his wife.

Nick gave the fire chief his card, and told him to call when they finished.

"We're almost done. It actually looked worse than it was… they're going to need a new porch and some new paint, but everything else should be fine. They're really lucky none of the glass shattered."

_'Cause there has always been heartache and pain,_

_And when it's over, you'll breathe again._

_You'll breathe again. _

Juliette was walking around the house with Neil when Nick pulled up. She was prepared to yell at him for leaving in the middle of the night when he wasn't on call when he opened the door; however, she stopped herself when he held the door for Monroe and Rosalee, both in nightclothes, coats, and, in Monroe's case, mismatched shoes.

"What happened?"

"Somebody tried to burn our house down. With us in it." Monroe answered quietly. Rosalee silently went over to the couch and sat down. Monroe sat next to her and rubbed small circles on her hand; she relaxed a little.

"Who would do that?" Juliette asked Nick, shifting Neil to her other shoulder.

"P.W.O. Remember them?"

"Oh no, not that crap again!" She beckoned Nick into the kitchen. "Why can't everybody leave them alone? They're so good together…" She looked out at them. Monroe had convinced Rosalee to take off her coat, and pulled her close to him. He was talking to her, but Juliette couldn't make out what he was saying.

"It's not always that simple, Jules, you know that. Here, let's see if Neil can cheer his godparents up…"

As Nick drew closer, he again heard the Blutbad whispering affirmations to the Fuchsbau. He loved her. He would never let anyone or anything hurt her. The house was going to be okay. He loved her. They were going to catch these monsters. He loved her.

"Sorry to interrupt," Nick said quietly, "but little Grimmling wanted to see his godparents." He deposited the 4 month-old gently onto Rosalee's lap. Neil responded to this change by promptly seizing a handful of Rosalee's hair. For the first time since she woke up, Rosalee smiled.

Thank you! Monroe mouthed to his friend before turning back to watch his wife.

_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you,_

_Give me a moment, please, _

_To tame your wild, wild heart…_

_Let me be the one you call;_

_If you jump, I'll break your fall,_

_Lift you up and fly away with you into the night._

_If you need to fall apart,_

_I can mend a broken heart;_

_If you need to crash, then crash and burn, _

_You're not alone._

* * *

_Song: Crash and Burn by Savage Garden. From the album Affirmation, copyright 1999, Columbia Records._


	26. Long Distance Lullaby

_So NBC and Hulu have been allowing us to watch the season from the beginning, doing 4 episodes at a time with the season finale. It's really great to re-watch the season, especially Quill and Over My Dead Body. I'm still trying to find something to go with a Quill ficlet... But this one contains spoilers for Over My Dead Body. And upon re-watching, it's actually interesting that Angelina, while brash and bitchy toward Rosalee and, well, everyone else, she is genuinely touched by what Monroe is doing for his friends. She even sniffles a little while Monroe is trying to reason with Rosalee. And I can't help but think that she's watching him, her ex, talk to his new girl and reassure her, and wishing he would talk to her like that instead. I also think, whether she would admit it or not, she sort of gave Rosalee her blessing._

_I bring this up because I was originally going to do a fic based on Paramore's Misery Business with Rosalee thinking about Angelina. And while Rosalee can be vindictive (see: Endangered, "How much are *you* worth?"), I think in the end, she credits Angelina for saving Monroe._

_And once again, I babble._

_Reviews/ Suggestions/ Requests welcome! I need mental stimulation!_

_I own nothing, as always. Desperately wish I was going to the Grimm Comic-Con panel, though..._

* * *

_One more hotel room._

_One more night away from you._

_One more phone call_

_To say I'll be home soon._

_I'm just so tired_

_Of all the distance in between._

_All I really need is you with me._

Rosalee didn't want to leave like that. She was just so uncomfortable when Angelina burst in; and then to be insulted by her? She wanted to say something, anything, to Monroe, but she figured it would be better to leave and call him later.

However, when she got back to her apartment, her mom called. Aunt Lois had a stroke. She had to come right away. Rosalee called Monroe to ask him to watch the shop while she was gone. He sounded upset and distracted, and at first seemed to think she was breaking up with him… well, were they even really dating? But he sounded relieved when she explained.

_I miss your voice._

_I miss your smile._

_I wish I could give you_

_A kiss from a thousand miles._

_Sleep well, my love;_

_Tonight, when you close your eyes,_

_Hear my long distance lullaby._

_La la la la, la la la la, la la la la la la,_

_La la la la, la la la la, la la la la la la._

When Monroe called about the Dead Faint, Rosalee felt like he was getting her back for scaring him earlier… but he was serious. He explained the situation, and, as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. This was what was necessary. Rosalee silently swore to herself that if anything happened to him, she would hunt down this Angelina and make her pay.

She talked them through it, making sure that Angelina knew what to look for to bring him back. She had to bring him back. She heard Monroe use an old German toast, which she translated for Angelina.

"Here's looking at you, kids. Hopefully not for the last time."

Rosalee could hardly hold the tears back.

"Monroe…"

"Don't worry," he said calmly. Maybe too calmly. "I'll be fine."

With that, Rosalee hung up the phone and wept. She cried for his bravery, his desire to protect his friends… and prayed, prayed as hard as she could, that she would see him again.

_I know it's hard when I'm so far away,_

_And these words can only go so far to say:_

_I miss your voice._

_I miss your smile._

_I wish I could give you_

_A kiss from a thousand miles._

_Sleep well, my love;_

_Tonight, when you close your eyes,_

_Hear my long distance lullaby._

Rosalee almost panicked to see Nick calling her instead of Monroe. But Nick reassured her that Monroe was safe.

"Now I can sleep."

Nick then told of how Angelina sacrificed herself for Monroe, and how he insisted on burying her their way. Even though part of her, a very small, vindictive part of her, was glad that she was gone, Rosalee said a quick prayer for Angelina. And Rosalee was finally able to sleep.

_La la la la (just close your eyes)_

_La la la la (I'm coming home)_

_La la la la (You'll hear me singing)_

_La la la la (I know it's hard)_

_La la la la (I'm coming home)_

_La la la la (and we'll be singing, la la)_

The days dragged, and Rosalee realized how much Monroe meant to her. She found herself waiting for his calls like they were her lifeline… and in a way, they sort of were. It was nice seeing her mom and Aunt Lois, she wanted to be back in Portland. In her shop. In her own home. In his arms. Feeling him brush up against her accidentally on purpose. Him watching her when he thought she wouldn't notice. Desperately wanting to kiss him again (by her own will) and not be interrupted by ex-girlfriends.

When Rosalee was on the bus back home, she resolved to show Monroe how she really felt. She saw him as the bus pulled into the station, standing off with Nick and a giant bouquet of yellow roses. She laughed as he tried to get Nick to take the bouquet; he was clearly over thinking. Again. He needs something simple and too obvious to doubt.

When she gets off the bus, she walks right over to him and just kisses him. She tries to pour everything she can into it: she missed him; she worried for him; she loves him.

And he kisses her back with everything he has, too.

And all she can think is 'I think I love him.'

* * *

_Song: Long Distance Lullaby by Martina McBride. From the album Eleven, copyright 2011, Republic Nashville_


	27. All I Want Is You

_Saw this on Facebook and thought it was apt:  
Comic-Con: Knock, knock!  
Me: Who's there?  
Comic-Con: NOT YOU!  
Seriously, am I the only nerd whose Interwebz are hellbent on letting me know every single piece of awesomeness I'm missing? _

_Anyway, going back to our cowboys! YAY! I love writing all my fics, but I have a particular fondness for this lifetime. Enjoy!_

_As always, reviews, requests, suggestions, song ideas... any kind of feedback always appreciated!_

_I own nothing. If I did, I would be at Comic-Con instead of writing fanfic ;-)_

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada**

_If I was a flower, growing wild and free,_

_All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey-bee._

_And if I was a tree, growing tall and green,_

_All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves._

_If I was a flower, growing wild and free,_

_All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey-bee._

_And if I was a tree, growing tall and green,_

_All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves._

_All I want is you, will you be my bride?_

_Take me by the hand and stand by my side._

_All I want is you, will you stay with me?_

_Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea._

Town Marshall Ambrose Dunn was in quite a state. Nat Burke watched his boss… no, his partner… pace around the office. It was the second week of December, about a month after the Wesley brothers adventure. The town was settling into the spirit of Christmas, and there were many socials and dances being planned for the town of Ruby Hill. Actually, there was a social that night, which was why Ambrose was pacing; he'd already invited one Miss Rebecca Cooke to accompany him, and she'd already accepted… but there was apparently more to this.

Nat wasn't sure what happened that night after he left Ambrose with Becky, but when he'd returned that morning to check on them, something had indeed changed. The secret glances and accidental contact they'd engaged in before became meaningful, shared looks and purposeful touch. Nat was glad to see that. It seemed the whole town let out a sigh of relief when the gossip came around that they were FINALLY courting; most of the town thought they already were anyway.

"Dunn, will you cool your heels already? You're making me nervous!"

Ambrose plopped down in the chair behind his desk, but continued to fidget.

"I'm sorry, Nat… It's just…"

"Are you worked up over the social tonight? Becky already said she'd accompany you…"

"It's not that… well, okay, it is that. I actually was going to…" Ambrose sighed and reached into his desk. He pulled out something shiny and slid it across the table to Nat.

Nat picked it up and examined it. It was a gold ring with seven small stones set in it. Nat was not very knowledgeable of precious stones, but they were in a strange pattern- red, green, dark red, purple, red, white, blue. Ambrose liked his patterns, so this was very strange. Nat looked at his partner questioningly.

Ambrose sighed. "I'm fixin' to ask Becky to marry me. I want to ask her tonight." He took the ring back and pointed at the stones. "This is the latest thing from back East. It's a Ruby, Emerald, Garnet, Amethyst, Ruby, Diamond, and Sapphire ring. It spells out REGARDS."

"How did you get that? It must have cost a fortune! The price of the gold alone…"

"I have my ways, Nat. Do you think she'll like it?" Nat looked at the ring and tried to imagine he was a girl like Becky; Becky didn't seem to be one for fancy, frivolous things (she was a calculating businesswoman, after all), but he was sure Ambrose could give her a paper ring from a cigar and she would keep it close to her heart.

"I think she'd love anything you gave her. How were you planning to ask her?"

"I'm not sure yet. I don't even know if I can. Every time I think about it, I start panicking. What if she says no?" Nat rolled his eyes so forcefully he was pretty sure they would fall out of his head and roll away.

"There is no way she's going to say no and you know it. Do I have to knock you unconscious and deposit you at her feet again?"

"NO. That will be quite unnecessary, thank you."

"Have you told her how you feel?" the Grimm probed.

"I haven't, um, told her, per se… but I think she knows…"

"If you keep making me roll my eyes like this, you're going to have a blind deputy on your hands. You know womenfolk like to be told things; even if they're pretty little lies, they like to hear how you feel. Trust me, I know it… That's... that's how I lost Jennie."

"Jennie?" the Marshall questioned. This was new information. Nat kept a tightly-buttoned lip on many items in his past. Nat sighed.

"I had a girl named Jennie back in Georgia; sweet, pretty little thing, beautiful long red hair. I kept my… status… secret from her. She knew I was hiding something. I asked her to marry me, and she said no, and she didn't want to speak to me until I came clean. That night, some kind of Wesen, and I'm not sure what kind, found her… she was a sitting duck… but she was left as a message for me… if I had only told her…" Nat stopped and wiped his eyes. Ambrose was stunned. No wonder Nat never talked about how he came to Nevada. Nat took a deep breath and continued, "I lost the love of my life because I was afraid, and I will be thrice God-damned if I let that happen to you. The social is in about 8 hours, so let's hatch ourselves a plan."

_If you were a river in the mountains tall,_

_The rumble of your water would be my call._

_If you were the winter, I know I'd be the snow_

_Just as long as you were with me when the cold winds blow._

_All I want is you, will you be my bride?_

_Take me by the hand and stand by my side._

_All I want is you, will you stay with me?_

_Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea._

With the help of his deputy, Ambrose now had an idea of how he wanted to ask Miss Rebecca Cooke to become Mrs. Rebecca Dunn. He would dance with her as if there was nothing going on (which would help him get rid of the nervous energy), and then when she wanted to rest, he would take her for a walk outside. The moon was to be full that night, and the sky had been clear all day. He would walk her a little ways away, where it was quiet, and ask her under the moon and stars.

It was a great plan. So naturally it didn't work out like that.

_If you were a wink, I'd be a nod._

_If you were a seed, well I'd be a pod._

_If you were the floor, I'd wanna be the rug,_

_And if you were a kiss, I know I'd be a hug._

_All I want is you, will you be my bride?_

_Take me by the hand and stand by my side._

_All I want is you, will you stay with me?_

_Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea._

The social was going well: plenty of good food, laughter, and dancing. Ambrose had been tense at first, but after eating and a little dancing, he was loosening up. Old Man Garza, who ran the post office, and his wife did an excellent job of decorating the office for the festivities. Ambrose was having a wonderful time, made even better knowing that by the end of the night, he would secure himself a wonderful bride. Rebecca looked positively lovely tonight, and he made sure to tell her at every convenience. He even managed to steal a few kisses… well, they were readily given, but still. Even Nat seemed to be having a good time, laughing with Reverend Turner and Barty the undertaker about something or other. It seemed the entire town was there, celebrating the beginning of the Christmas season. Ambrose was just about ready to ask Becky to walk with him when a shot rang out.

Everybody froze, and a piece of the ceiling landed at Barty's feet. At the door stood a group of five Balam, fully woged and most likely intoxicated. Ambrose's eyes widened as he recognized their leader, the man who had killed his last deputy, Gus. Ambrose and Nat had had many conversations about Gus and this pack of Balam. Now they were back to start trouble.

"Miss Rebecca, you may want to find somewhere to hide," Ambrose quietly whispered in his lover's ear. She nodded, and crept slowly through the crowd, gathering up some of the younger children as she went. Ambrose found Nat, and the two of them turned to face the interruption.

"Where's the Grimm?" growled the leader of the pack.

"I believe you are referring to my deputy. And what business do you have with him this evening?"

"Oh, it's Mr. Dunn. That's the best replacement you could get for your deputy? A Grimm? I'm surprised he hasn't stabbed you in the back when you weren't looking." Nat and Ambrose exchanged looks.

"I'm not that kind of Grimm. I only kill those that need it. Why, you want to set up an appointment? We can send for Judge Potter. I hear he's a hanging judge… are you all fixin' to become a wind chime?"

Sometimes Ambrose hated how snarky Nat was. This was not one of those times. He wanted to see each and every one of these bastards strung as high as possible for killing a man of the law. He also noticed out of the corner of his eye that a lot of the menfolk of the town were starting to circle round.

"So is that what you came for?" Ambrose asked.

"We want him dead and out of our territory… and we should probably get rid of you, too, Dunn. You've been nothing but trouble for us. But are the two of you really gonna take on all of us?"

Now it was Ambrose's turn to be snarky.

"I don't know! Is there anyone here who wants to join in a little fight?" He smirked, because he knew the answer. On either side of Nat and Ambrose, the good people of Ruby Hill lined up; if they had no weapons on them, they woged to show they were ready to fight. Barty. Silas, the saloon-keeper. Zeb the butcher. Levi. Rufus. Old Man Garza. Even Miss Hettie took out the little gun she kept to protect her girls and stood with the Blutbad and the Grimm.

"Well," Ambrose started, looking around, then back to the Balam, "is this a good enough answer, or do you need more? I don't want to kill anybody that doesn't need it…"

The leader was getting increasingly angry; however, the other members of the gang were starting to slowly back away. The leader addressed those assembled, while slowly approaching Ambrose and Nat.

"The Grimm is dangerous. He will destroy you all. He may act like your friend, but a Grimm is a Grimm. First he'll take out the Marshall and make it look like an accident. Then, when he's the Marshall, he'll hunt you all down. He'll kill your wives, your younglings, your families, and you. You're being led on, deluded. He won't stop until every one of us is dead. However, I'm going to subtract his count by ONE!"

With that last statement, he grabbed Ambrose by the throat, his claws scraping against the Blutbad's skin. At almost the exact moment, a single shot rang out and a bullet buried itself in the Balam's neck. The other Balam threw their weapons down and ran into the night. Their leader fell into Nat's arms, and the face of the Grimm was the last he saw. He died, and became a human once more. Barty rushed over to take the body from Nat's arms.

"AMBROSE DUNN, are you hurt?" A voice shrieked from above. There, on the balcony by the window that Old Man Garza used to keep lookout for the mail carriages, stood one Rebecca Cooke, holding a smoking six-shooter. She ran quickly down the stairs, followed by some of the younger townsfolk. She ran to the Marshall, and threw herself into his arms. He caught her, and held her close. He closed his eyes, but heard Nat's voice next to him.

"Let's hear three cheers for Miss Rebecca Cooke, the heroine of Ruby Hill!" The crowd erupted around them; Becky detached herself from Ambrose, smiled shyly and curtsied. Nat calmed the crowd again.

"Now, as you well know, every great, brave woman deserves a great, brave man to stand with…" Ambrose did not like where this was going. "…which she has found in our right honorable Marshall, Mr. Ambrose Dunn…" oh, yeah, Ambrose really didn't like where this was going… "who, if I'm not mistaken, has something very important to say to her." Ambrose glared at his deputy. Rebecca faced him, questioning. She was just so beautiful… and she just saved his life… and somehow, the ruckus just seemed to disappear around them as he looked into her pretty brown eyes.

"Uh, Miss Rebecca… I… I love you. I've loved you since I met you… I owe you so very much, including my life tonight…" he fumbled in his pocket for the ring. "I… uh… want you to have this… uh… as a symbol…" Finally his frustration got the better of him. "Aww, hell, woman, can't you see I'm asking you to marry me?"

He was not prepared for the reaction he got. Smart, polite, proper Miss Rebecca Cooke, who most of the people in the town thought was a spinster who worked too much, who had just shot a man dead, quite literally pounced on the Marshall and started planting kisses on his cheeks and on his lips. The townsfolk laughed and applauded.

"So I guess that's a yes, Miss Rebecca?" someone shouted. Becky pulled back, looked Ambrose in the eyes for a long moment before turning to the assembled and shouting her answer.

"YES!"

_If you were the wood, I'd be the fire._

_If you were the love, I'd be the desire._

_If you were a castle, I'd be your moat,_

_And if you were an ocean, I'd learn to float._

_All I want is you, will you be my bride?_

_Take me by the hand and stand by my side._

_All I want is you, will you stay with me?_

_Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea._

* * *

_Song: All I Want Is You by Barry Louis Polisar. From the album My Brother Thinks He's a Banana and Other Provocative Songs for Children, copyright 1977, Rainbow Morning Music._

_Can we all just agree that's one of the greatest album titles in the history of ever? Seriously._


	28. A Thousand Years

_So this ficlet is for Mega Pearl and Mkat, who wanted a MonRosalee moment for this song... upon multiple listens and rereads of the lyrics, I figured this would be appropriate... then, when looking for the album information, I found that the instrumental version was used in the wedding in Twilight. D'oh! But it just fits so well, damn the torpedoes, this is what you're getting! Muhahaha!_

_Reviews/ Suggestions/ Song Ideas always welcome! My music collection always has room for one more!_

_Still own nothing, and still not at Comic-Con._

* * *

_Heart beats fast,_

_Colors and promises_

_How to be brave._

_How can I love_

_When I'm afraid to fall?_

Monroe stands in his spot and faces the group of people gathered before him. His parents and family on one side, Rosalee's on the other. Many members of the local Wesen community are taking this wedding as a symbol for inter-species dialogue; they're sitting on Rosalee's side because her family is so much smaller. He thought to himself how great it was that they had that support from their friends, especially since his family had been, shall we say, less than helpful. Out of the corner of his eye, Monroe sees Bud wave to his wife. Mrs. Wurstner was sitting behind Captain Renard, who was chatting with Holly Clark. Monroe saw Roddy and Chelsea in the back. Their band, String Theory, was playing the first half of their reception, but it was decided that, with the likelihood of Wesen-related problems, the Kehrseite band members would probably be better off not attending the ceremony. It turned out that Chelsea was a member of the same Eisbiber Lodge as the Wurstners; she was checking the microphones while Roddy rosined his bow. The non-denominational minister walks onto the altar and greets Monroe.

The music begins to play, and the parents are escorted in. Monroe hopes he was imagining the resigned look on his mother's face. He feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps a little. It's Nick.

"You okay?" the Grimm whispers, following Monroe's gaze. "Don't worry, I'll keep my eye on them. You just concentrate on what you're here for."

_But watching you stand alone,_

_All of my doubt_

_Suddenly goes away somehow._

_One step closer._

The music changes, and Chelsea and Roddy begin playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. Juliette enters and walks down the aisle. She looks lovely in the dark blue Rosalee chose for the bridesmaids. She smiles at Monroe, winks at Nick, and takes her place across from Bud. Rosalee's friend Mariyam is next, and she stands across from Hank. Finally, the Maid of Honor, Audrey, enters and takes her place across from Nick. The doors open, and all Monroe can see is her.

Rosalee is wearing a very simple, ivory gown that just sweeps the top of her shoes, dyed blue to match the bridesmaid dresses. She carries a simple bouquet of daisies, tied in a dark blue ribbon. She has an elbow-length veil, which was down in front of her face, but Monroe could see her smiling. All his worries melt away; he's dreamed of this moment for so long.

_I have died every day_

_Waiting for you._

_Darling, don't be afraid;_

_I have loved you _

_For a thousand years;_

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

Rosalee arrives in front of him, and he feels his breath catch. He still wonders if it's a dream, if he's going to wake up any moment alone again. She smiles and takes his hand. She must have read his mind, because she lightly pinches his thumb. No, this is real. And better than any dream he can remember.

_Time stands still,_

_Beauty in all that she is._

_I will be brave._

_I will not let anything take away_

_What's standing in front of me. _

_Every breath, every hour,_

_Has come to this. _

_One step closer._

_I have died every day_

_Waiting for you._

_Darling, don't be afraid;_

_I have loved you _

_For a thousand years;_

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

The ceremony is fairly short, but Monroe can't keep his eyes off of her. He knows he's probably smiling like an idiot, but he doesn't care. He promises to love, honor, respect, and protect her, and she promises the same.

"You were my yesterday, you are my today, and you will be my tomorrow. With this ring, I give you my promise that you shall never walk alone." His hand shakes slightly as he takes her ring from Nick and slides it on her finger. Rosalee repeats the promise, and puts a ring on his finger as well.

_And all along, I believed_

_I would find you._

_Time has brought _

_Your heart to me._

_I have loved you _

_For a thousand years;_

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

_One step closer._

_One step closer._

"By the power vested in me by the State of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Monroe's hands shake a little as he lifts the veil and pushes it back. She smiles as he leans in, and they kiss. In that moment, it's just the two of them, together. Somewhere in the distance, he hears applause and cheers… and he swears he might actually hear his parents' voices in the din. They part, smile at each other, and take each other's hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the happy couple!" Once again, a cheer went up, and Monroe thought he saw his mother wiping her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be fine after all...

_I have died every day_

_Waiting for you._

_Darling, don't be afraid;_

_I have loved you _

_For a thousand years;_

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

_And all along, I believed_

_I would find you._

_Time has brought _

_Your heart to me._

_I have loved you _

_For a thousand years;_

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

* * *

_Song: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. We'll just call it a digital single. Copyright 2011, Atlantic Records._


	29. Touch of Grey

_Alright, time for some drama! Meet Mama and Papa Blutbad..._

_Reviews, suggestions, song requests, don't be shy! I love feedback and ideas!_

_Same old, same old, I own nothing, nothing!_

* * *

_Must be getting early; clocks are running late._

_Paint-by-numbers morning sky looks so phony._

_Dawn is breaking everywhere; light a candle, curse the glare,_

_Draw the curtains, I don't care 'cause it's alright._

_I will get by. I will get by. I will get by. I will survive._

Monroe and Rosalee are both a tangle of nervous energy this morning. Monroe has not seen his parents in a long time, and it's Rosalee's first time meeting her future in-laws. They had made sure to let Nick know that he probably shouldn't come over without calling first; this was going to be weird enough without a Grimm barging in. The couple are both ready long before they were due to arrive, so Monroe naturally starts pacing, as he usually did. Rosalee fidgets with the fringe of one of the pillows on the couch. Neither feel much like talking.

Monroe then went into the bathroom for seemingly the hundredth time when a car with New Hampshire plates pulled up. Rosalee calls to Monroe to let him know, and walks to the door. She takes deep breaths in and out to try to calm her jitters.

_I see you've got your list out; say your piece and get out._

_Guess I get the gist of it but it's alright._

_Sorry that you feel that way. The only thing there is to say,_

_Every silver lining's got a touch of grey._

_I will get by. I will get by. I will get by. I will survive._

Rosalee opens the door and greets Monroe's parents. His mother, Marjorie, is tall but strongly built, with dark hair and eyes like her son. She does not look like a woman in her 60s. His father, Stanley, is shorter than his wife, with a large bald spot in the middle of his dark hair and watery blue eyes behind thick glasses. Rosalee smiles a little too forcefully as she lets them in and offers to take their coats.

Monroe exits the bathroom and greets his parents warmly. Rosalee returns and stands beside him.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, my dear! And such wonderful news! I was beginning to think we'd never see grandpups!" Marjorie takes her son into her arms and gives him a crushing hug.

"Yes, where is the little lady? I'd like to meet her and get the hunt on! It's been such a long drive, I need to run!" Stanley looked at Rosalee when he mentioned the hunt. She feels her heart start to race; this is not good.

"Uh, Dad, this is her," Monroe states, wrapping his arm around Rosalee. "There won't be a hunt. I don't do that anymore. Mom, Dad, this is Rosalee, my lovely bride-to-be."

To say that neither Monroe nor Rosalee were prepared for what came next would be an understatement.

_It's a lesson to me, the Ables and the Bakers and the Cs._

_The A-B-Cs we all must face, try to keep a little grace._

_It's a lesson to me, the Deltas and the East and the Freeze._

_The A-B-Cs we all think of, try to give a little love._

"A FUCHSBAU?" Marjorie shrieks at her son, woging.

"Why are you marrying dinner?" Stanley growls, also woging. He and Marjorie start attempting to circle the couple, and Marjorie snaps at Rosalee. Monroe pulls Rosalee to him and wraps his arms around her; if they want her so badly, they'll have to get through him first.

"I'm marrying her because I love her, and she loves me. Is that so hard to understand?" Monroe and Rosalee are doing their best not to woge. Monroe is doing it symbolically, to show the triumph of the human over the animal; Rosalee just doesn't want to set them off further. She knows they can smell her fear, but she doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear made manifest.

_I know the rent is in arrears. The dog has not been fed in years._

_It's even worse than it appears, but it's alright. _

_The cow is giving kerosene. The kid can't read at seventeen; _

_The words he knows are all obscene, but it's alright._

_I will get by. I will get by. I will get by. I will survive._

"I can't believe this! My son, my only son, marrying a Fuchsbau! What has this place done to you?" Marjorie wails, still woged.

"You should have never left the pack. You've gone soft. What's next? You're going to tell us your best friend is a Grimm and you invite it over for beers and help it destroy other Wesen?" Stanley growls again, as Rosalee and Monroe share a look. If only they knew…

"What happened to Angelina? She was so good for you… why don't you marry her instead?" Marjorie continues.

"Angelina's dead," Rosalee states quietly, "And she was terrible for him. She kept him from being the man he wants to be."

"Really, Fuchsbau? And I suppose that _you_ are just the... the _thing_... to help him be…" Marjorie chuckled. It was a high, grating sound. "…the _MAN_ he wants to be?"

"So, you're denying your very nature, son?" Stanley asks suspiciously. They are still circling, trying to find an opening. Monroe instinctively moves his hand to protect Rosalee's neck. Rosalee is fighting her burrowing impulse; all she wants to do was hide in Monroe's chest until they go away. But she's already made a stand, and they need to stand together.

"I've gotten quite good at that, Dad," Monroe says quietly, "And if you're both going to pass judgment on the woman I love before even getting to know her… if you won't even call her by her proper name!... then I think it's time for you to go."

"Oh, dear, we only want what's best for you… we want you to preserve our bloodline! We want strong Blutbaden pups, not whatever malformed, mewling weaklings you would produce mingling your noble heritage with… this… this THING."

Monroe can't take it anymore. He releases Rosalee, woges, and pins his parents to the wall by their throats. His eyes burn, and for a moment, Rosalee is afraid for her future in-laws; Monroe may not be as strong as non-Wieder Blutbaden, but his parents' age make them weaker. Monroe speaks, quietly and slowly, staring both of his parents in the eye.

"That THING has a name. Her name is Rosalee Calvert, and I am marrying her. I am marrying her because I love her and she loves me. I don't care if she's a Fuchsbau, I wouldn't care if she were Kehrseite, and hell, I wouldn't care if she were a Grimm, as long as she loved me the way I love her. I owe her my life multiple times over, and she has earned my loyalty and my love. Is that not enough? So you can either accept it, and be part of our lives, or reject it, and I will never speak to you again. It's your choice. I'll give you some time to think about it. Now, OUT!" Monroe lets them go, storms over to the door, and yanks it open. He puts on one of his 'I'm trying really hard not to kill you' smiles and gestures to the door.

"This isn't over, Fuchsbau." Marjorie growls in Rosalee's ear as she leaves. "This is far from over."

_The shoe is on the hand it fits; there's really nothin' much to it._

_Whistle through your teeth and spit 'cause it's alright._

_Oh well, a touch of grey kind of suits your anyway;_

_That was all I had to say, and it's alright._

_I will get by. I will get by. I will get by. I will survive._

That night, there are very few words between Monroe and Rosalee. Monroe feels like his heart is breaking in his chest; a look into Rosalee's eyes confirms she feels the same. He holds her as she cries into his shoulder; some tears escape his eyes as well, and fall into her hair. He is not going to let anyone or anything, not even his own family, hurt her. All he knows is he is willing to do anything for her; fight, kill, and die, even against his own family, his own…

No, they weren't his pack anymore. His pack was Nick, Hank, Juliette, Renard, Bud, Roddy, Krystal, Holly… they were his pack now. And Rosalee was his mate. Wolves mate for life, and he is pretty sure foxes do, too. And nothing is going to get between him and his mate. Nothing.

_We will get by. We will get by. We will get by. We will survive._

_We will get by. We will get by. We will get by. We will survive. _

* * *

_Song: Touch of Grey by the Grateful Dead. From the album In the Dark, copyright 1987, Arista Records._


	30. As I Lay Me Down

_I really don't know how to introduce this one, except that I agree with Abed: this was Sophie B. Hawkins's better hit._

_Reviews/ comments/ suggestions/ song requests always welcome!_

_If I owned it, it would be canon._

* * *

_It felt like springtime on this February morning; _

_In a courtyard, birds were singing your praise._

_I'm still recalling things you said to make me feel alright; _

_I carry them with me today. Now_

_As I lay me down to sleep, this I pray: _

_That you will hold me dear, though I'm far away._

_I'll whisper your name into the skies, _

_And I will wake up happy._

After the disastrous first meeting with Monroe's parents, Rosalee cried for what seemed like hours into his shoulder. Eventually, she had no tears left, and her body refused to sob anymore. She drifted into an uneasy, exhausted sleep.

Monroe carried his bride-to-be to their bed, and carefully removed her shoes. His heart felt like a pile of shattered glass. How could he have been so stupid? Of course his parents wouldn't approve of him marrying a Fuchsbau! He was just so blinded by his love for her that he figured everyone else would be, too. Nick, Hank, and Juliette didn't really have a concept of the _Reinheitsgebot_, so it wouldn't matter to them; the Eisbiber Lodge wouldn't dare intrude, even if they thought their marriage was wrong; they really had nobody that would object to their marriage. That was all well and good to a point… but his own mother snapped at Rosalee. What was Rosalee's mother going to say? He remembered meeting her for a few moments at Freddy's funeral, just long enough to offer condolences. He wasn't worried about Mrs. Calvert attacking him, but did resentment burn in her like it did in his parents? Would she secretly or explicitly wish Rosalee was marrying Ian instead?

He watched Rosalee's chest move up and down as she breathed in and out. She was so beautiful, hypnotic. He started to wonder if he loved her enough to let her go… let her go for her own safety… he'd survived a long time without her… he could plug the emptiness as he did before, with routine and structure and work… his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually melted into sleep as well.

_I wonder why I feel so high, though I am not above the sorrow,_

_Heavy-hearted 'til you call my name; _

_And it sounds like church bells,_

_Or a whistle of a train on a summer evening._

_I'll run to meet you, barefoot, barely breathing._

_As I lay me down to sleep, this I pray: _

_That you will hold me dear, though I'm far away._

_I'll whisper your name into the skies, _

_And I will wake up happy._

_As I lay me down to sleep, this I pray: _

_That you will hold me dear, though I'm far away._

_I'll whisper your name into the skies, _

_And I will wake up happy._

Monroe finds himself in a strange place; it's like a garden, with white stone paths and hundreds of trees and flowers. The entire place glows, and he notices there seem to be lanterns full of fireflies… but they're too bright to be fireflies… and they're just floating, like there's no sort of attachment to the trees. Strange. He stands for a moment, trying to get his bearings. He doesn't remember how he got here, but that fact doesn't frighten him like it normally would. No, he feels safe and warm… with a pang in his heart, he recognizes the feeling: this is how he feels in Rosalee's embrace. Rosalee… was she here? He had to find her… he wants to panic, but he can't. He feels like he is under heavy sedation, and all there is to feel is warmth and safety. His body tells his feet to move forward, independently of his mind; one step, then another, then another. His head doesn't know where he's going, but his body does… while he doesn't quite trust it, he has no other option.

He allows his body to steer him and he takes a moment to look around; there really isn't much variation in the plant life, and it reminds him of a scrolling background from an old film; it feels like the same ten or so feet are copied and duplicated next to each other. However, that starts to change as he sees a clearing ahead: all the trees and lilies give way to roses. Hundreds, thousands of roses. White, red, pink, and yellow. They aren't on bushes, nor do they seem to be cut; they seem to be growing as one long vine, which forms into what looks like a set of patio furniture: a table, four chairs, and an arch.

This was all very strange in itself, but he was even more shocked at who is sitting in one of the chairs: none other than Freddy Calvert. Freddy stood and greeted Monroe warmly. Another man, who looked just like him but somewhat different, appeared by the arch. As he approached, Monroe realized this must be their father, George. Rosalee definitely inherited his eyes. Monroe attempted to smile as he extended his hand to George.

"Mister Calvert…" George looked at Freddy questioningly, and then hugged Monroe.

"Please, you have earned the right to call me George."

"Uh, okay, uh, George… Freddy… what is all of this?" Monroe gestured to the garden, and realized that he had no idea where the light was coming from: there was no moon, no lanterns of fireflies, nothing that would produce the clean, white light bathing over them.

"Well," began George, glancing at Freddy, "this is a very strange circumstance. Please understand that."

"I think I gathered that, thanks."

"Now, Monroe," Freddy chided, "this is not the time to be snarky. You can go about with that when you wake up. But we have some business to attend to." Anything Monroe wanted to say died in his throat.

"Rosalee prayed for our guidance. It seems the situation with your parents upset her greatly. It also upset you enough to consider letting her go, did it not?"

Monroe felt his cheeks burn. Great, an interrogation from his future father-in-law and brother-in-law, who were both dead. Add this to the list of wonderful things that happened today. He couldn't speak, so he merely nodded. He felt ashamed that he would consider abandoning her when she needed him most. Freddy and George stared at him, as if they could read his thoughts.

"How seriously did you consider leaving her?" Monroe sighed.

"I just want her to be safe. Please believe that I would do anything for her; I would even let her go and marry Ian…" Ian's name tasted bitter in his mouth, but he knew it was true. He would rather see her happy with Ian than miserable, teetering on the brink of her own destruction, with him.

"And what about you? Who will you love? Angelina is gone, and wasn't what you wanted anyway… all the other female Blutbaden in the area are not your type… that is to say, they are all still wild."

"I'll just go back to my clocks, I guess. Like before I met her." George stared at him intently for a moment.

"So you would go back to that existence, that empty den, after knowing a true lover's touch… seeing her move on to someone she has so little in common with… bearing children that, while of pure blood, are not yours? "

Monroe sighed again. Would he be able to live with that? There was a selfish part of him that said no, but the bigger part of him shouted that tiny voice down.

"I will do whatever I need to see her safe and happy, even if that means not being with her… even if that means never seeing her again. I just… I love her so much, it scares me." Monroe fidgeted with a rose that was growing next to him; it was yellow, like the bouquet he gave her when she returned from tending to Aunt Lois… Out of the corner of his eye, he saw George disappear through the arch. Freddy smiled at him kindly.

"You have been wonderful for Rosie. We've watched her, and in turn have watched you… not like that, please get your mind out of the gutter…" he smiled again, and Monroe couldn't help but laugh.

"But in all seriousness, the two of you are stronger, smarter, and better together. You are not only what she wants, you are what she needs. And I know you will protect her…" Freddy trailed off and looked toward the arch. Monroe followed his gaze.

_It's not too near for me; like a flower, I need the rain._

_Though it's not clear to me, every season has its change_

_And I will see you when the sun comes out again._

_As I lay me down to sleep, this I pray: _

_That you will hold me dear, though I'm far away._

_I'll whisper your name into the skies, _

_And I will wake up happy._

_As I lay me down to sleep, this I pray: _

_That you will hold me dear, though I'm far away._

_I'll whisper your name into the skies, _

_And I will wake up happy._

Rosalee smiled as she became cognizant of where she was; it was the rose garden. She often dreamed of it, with the firefly lanterns suspended in midair; this is where her father and Freddy would visit her. Sometimes she prayed to them as some people pray to saints, begging for advice or intercession. Usually, if they had something to tell her, they would lead her dream-self here. They must have heard her, begging for guidance. She loves Monroe, but she couldn't stand the thought of having to watch her back around her in-laws… Strange, normally Freddy or Papa were here waiting for her…

Suddenly she heard voices in the garden; clear, but soft. Papa's. Freddy's. …Monroe's? Did they lead him here, too?

She followed the sound, as Monroe was introduced to her father for the first time. She found them at the patio, but something prevented her from crossing through the arch. No, she was supposed to listen. She sat, listening, as a yellow rose grew next to her. She had never cared for yellow roses until Monroe gave her a bouquet of them… he seemed to like giving her yellow flowers… she'd have to ask why that was… but they became her favorite. She stroked its petals as she listened to the conversation…

He wanted to let her go… he wanted her to go back to Ian; she stiffened at the mention of Ian. He wanted her to be safe and happy… even if that meant him being alone. She wanted to cry. She loved him so much…

She was so absorbed in the flower and listening that she barely noticed her father come through the arch. He bent down and tousled her hair, like he did when she was a child. She smiled.

"Papa! You heard me!"

"Of course, Rosie. You know we always do. Come with me." She took his hand and he led her through the arch. The barrier that was there before was no longer there.

Freddy was still speaking to Monroe, and she smiled as she met her brother's gaze.

"…and I know you will protect her…" Monroe followed Freddy's gaze and his eyes met Rosalee's. George dropped his daughter's hand as Monroe approached. Monroe embraced Rosalee and kissed her forehead. He never wanted to let her go… However, he felt like he needed to release her; he did, but held her hand tightly in his. Freddy and George stood next to them. George spoke first.

"Monroe, was everything you told us here the truth?"

"I didn't know I had the option to lie; and even if I knew, I wouldn't have."

"Rosie, do you believe in his love, and that he will keep you safe?" Rosalee nodded, smiling at Monroe.

"Well, know this, both of you: you have our blessing. May you both nurture, protect, and strengthen each other. Rosie..." he looked to his daughter, "your mother will approve as well. We all want to see you happy, and this is the happiest you've been in such a long time… And Monroe…" Monroe looked George in the eye, "your parents will come around. At first it will appear as resignation, but they will come around… especially when Sophia arrives…" Monroe and Rosalee's heads both snapped toward him.

"Who is Sophia?" they asked in unison.

"My first grandchild, of course. And their first grandchild as well; they will not give up the opportunity to be grandparents, trust me." Monroe smiled at Rosalee and kissed her hand.

"Oh, one more thing," Freddy said, "you will not be able to remember this as a whole; only bits and pieces. However, you will wake with a renewed determination to make your relationship work and make each other happy. Now it is almost morning, and you must go; but don't worry, we will be watching. Goodbye, Rosie. Goodbye, Monroe…"

Monroe grasped Rosalee's hand, and the garden dissolved around them. He didn't want to let go, but he knew he had to. She would be there when he woke up…

_I wonder why…_

_When the sun comes out again, when the sun comes out again,_

_When the sun comes out again, when the sun comes out again,_

_When the sun comes out again, when the sun comes out again…_

Monroe woke next to Rosalee. She was still in her clothes from the previous day. It was morning. He stretched and sat up; his movement caused Rosalee's eyes to flutter open. She stretched as well.

"Hi," she said, quietly.

"Hi," he responded. "You feel better?"

"Yeah… not really sure why… I guess all that crying last night…"

"I'm so sorry about that… I just didn't think… but they'll come around. Maybe not now, but they'll come around."

"I know… and if it make you feel better, I get the feeling that Mama will be okay." Monroe took his beautiful fiancée into his arms. He kissed her cheek.

"What do you think your Dad and Freddy would think?"

She thought for a moment, while a feeling, like a vague, fuzzy memory of a dream told her the answer.

"I think as long as we take care of each other, they'd approve." She kissed his cheek, and they both smiled.

_I will wake up happy…_

_This I pray…_

* * *

_Song: As I Lay Me Down by Sophie B. Hawkins. From the album Whaler, copyright 1994, Columbia Records._


	31. (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and

_Follow-up to Crash and Burn. I had an avalanche of ideas last night whilst fighting insomnia, so we'll see where we go... I want to do a Ruby Hill wedding and tie up the Crash and Burn thread before the end of July... and maybe do a Christmas fic. I can get away with Christmas In July here, right? I've been secretly listening to "Christmas in Hollis" and "Father Christmas" on repeat for the last couple days..._

_However, full disclosure, I have no idea how arson investigation really works and I feel like trying to look it up may look suspicious... so I'm giving it the TV Cop treatment._

_Reviews. Suggestions. Ideas. Song Requests. GIVE ZEM TO ME! Offer me tribute in the form of mental stimulation, and you shall be rewarded! _

_I currently own an empty stomach and not much more besides lol_

* * *

_As I walk through this wicked world,_

_Searchin' for light in the darkness of insanity,_

_I ask myself, 'Is all hope lost? _

_Is there only pain and hatred and misery?'_

_And each time I feel like this inside,_

_There's one thing I wanna know:_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

Eventually Monroe, Juliette, and Nick were able to convince Rosalee to sleep for a little while on the Burkhardts' couch. Monroe was entirely too wired at this point, so Nick made him a cup of coffee. Nick silently noted how old and tired his friend suddenly looked.

"So what did the fire chief say?" he asked after he thanked Nick for the mug of hot liquid energy.

"He said they were almost done; he said you're going to need a new porch and maybe some new paint, but none of the glass or anything shattered. We should be able to look at it later. Did either of you see anyone while you were waiting for me?" Monroe shook his head.

"No. We looked around, but we were both so focused on calling for help at first, we would have made easy targets…" he ran his hands through his hair, and glanced at his sleeping wife, "but you can bet I would have killed anybody who got near her." Nick clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know. I have to get ready for work. We'll see if we can scare up some clothes for you to borrow. Once I talk to Arson, we'll go take a look, okay? I'll see if we can get Roxy on the case… Roxanne Russo, she's a Schnüffler…"

"Schnüffler?" Juliette interjected, confused. She still had a hard time keeping many of the Wesen species straight.

"It's like a bloodhound." Monroe clarified. "Okay. Just give us a call."

_And as I walk on through troubled time, _

_My spirit gets so down-hearted sometimes._

_So where are the strong? And who are the trusted?_

_And where is the harmony? Sweet harmony._

When Nick got to work, his first stop was Renard's office. Renard looked tired.

"Already called Roxy. She'll be waiting for you at your desk. Keep me in the loop; the last thing I need are more PWO idiots running around." Nick nodded and made his way to his desk. Roxy was sitting in his chair, talking to Hank.

"Morning Roxy, Hank."

"You look tired. Is Neil sleeping through the night yet?" Roxy asked in her lovely British accent. Due to her enhanced sense of smell, she was the first outside of the Scooby circle to know Juliette was pregnant; she could smell it on his clothes, she was that good.

"Well, he's doing alright, but getting a panic call at 4 am didn't help. And that's why you're here. Somebody set Monroe and Rosalee's porch on fire…" he dropped his voice and leaned in close to Hank; he knew Roxy would be able to hear him, "and left a PWO calling card." Hank rolled his eyes.

"Oh, man, not that bullshit again. Seriously, can't those two get a break?"

"Well, if you're ready to go, I'm ready. Are they going to come, too? I need to know what scents to rule out."

"Yeah, I'll call them… but just a heads up, Rosalee might be a little nervous around you. She took this morning particularly hard, and her prey response is probably elevated… Fuchsbau." Roxy nodded.

"Noted. I think you're confusing me for a Beagle, but noted nonetheless."

Nick called Monroe and let them know they were on their way.

Monroe and Rosalee were waiting at their house when the trio pulled up. Monroe was wearing his pajama pants (all of Nick's pants were much too short for his lanky body) and an over-sized grey t-shirt. Rosalee was wearing a pair of Nick's sweatpants and one of Juliette's sweaters. Thankfully, it was a mild day for early November. Rosalee kept looking over her shoulder, as if something was following her.

Nick introduced Roxy. She woged, and sniffed each of them deeply.

"So I know what doesn't belong. And because of your clothes, I'll be able to rule out Nick's family, too. Let's get started, shall we?"

Roxy began with the PWO calling card.

"Gasoline…" she grabbed a handful of grass and inhaled deeply. "Male, teenager… Ziegvolk… did you ever do anything to piss off a…"

"Barry Kellogg." Nick, Hank, Rosalee, and Monroe all respond in unison.

"Okay, then…" Roxy looks both ways down the street, then says quietly, "I'm going to need a little cover here, if you don't mind…" When they had formed a barrier around her, she got on all fours, fully woged, and started sniffing the ground. "There was also… a female… Kehrseite… teenager, but…" she stopped and sniffed one particular patch again, "…pregnant. About a month, I would say… probably doesn't even know it yet…" she continued toward the charred remains of the porch. "I could be wrong… but… I smell… hairspray…" Roxy stopped, shifted back to her human form, and pulled a rubber glove and plastic baggie out of her pocket. She picked up something, a charred twisted plastic thing, and held it up to the group. "Lighter. She sprayed the hairspray through the lighter and basically made a flamethrower."

"Oh, that's just great," Monroe grumbled.

"Fortunately, by looking at the burn patterns, she apparently spent too much time trying to set the foundation on fire… didn't realize it was concrete. So we've got a dumb teenager who might be out for revenge, seduces and knocks up a Kehrseite girl, and probably made her do it under mind control… Barry Kellogg… wasn't he that lawyer who got sent to jail for…"

"Assault." They once again answer in unison. Rosalee speaks up.

"Long story short, he was jury-tampering, so we stopped him. He figured it out and attacked me… without going into too much detail, he was charged with assault, willful and malicious destruction of property, and a couple other things… he'd currently serving 7 years, with no time off. And that was him accepting a plea bargain, because he knew he'd never be able to prove otherwise."

"I'm going to assume that 'otherwise' would be the true story, but I don't want to hear it. But anyway, that's what I'm getting. Do you want to check on your belongings inside while I make a couple quick sketches? There might be some smoke damage… and I'll make a note to give Nick a copy of the report for your insurance…You do have insurance, correct?

"Of course."

"Okay. And let me know if there's any water damage inside the door so I can add it to the report."

_'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry:_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

_So where are the strong? And who are the trusted?_

_And where is the harmony? Sweet harmony._

Monroe makes sure to give Rosalee's hand a squeeze before they go in through the back door. She seems to have calmed down significantly after actually seeing the damage. They have insurance, it'll just take some time to rebuild the porch and repaint the house.

"Hey, we can make the porch bigger… maybe we can put a swing up… and we'll find out who did it." She nodded and followed him into the house.

The house doesn't smell like smoke, and they both carefully check the living room and upstairs. No glass is broken, but the doormat inside the front door is soaked. They find no other water damage. When they are satisfied, they go back outside.

"No problems. Our doormat is wet, but I think we can handle that…"

"'Kay… almost done." Nick hands Monroe a sketch of a blonde girl, no more than fifteen. Around the edges are notes like "Bath and Body Works: Eucalyptus Mint" and "Aussie brand hair products".

Roxy finishes her other drawing, and hands it up. Boy, also about fifteen, curly blonde hair. His note says "Axe Body Spray: Shock". Hank helps her up off the pavement.

"Well, I think that's enough to go on. You can both go in, have some breakfast, take a shower… change your clothes… I'll bang this report out and give it to Nick by the end of the day, okay?"

Monroe nodded. Rosalee sighed and looked up at her husband.

"I think I'm going to just get dressed and go to the shop. I need to stop thinking about it for a while… okay?" Monroe nodded silently and kissed the top of her head. She gives him a quick hug before disappearing around back. Monroe sighed.

"Thank you all so much. We owe you." Roxy waves her hand.

"Nonsense. We're just doing our jobs."

"Yeah, man, and with all you've done for us… both of you… we're gonna get to the bottom of this." Hank agreed enthusiastically. Monroe nodded and shuffled his feet.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. However, it is nearly 10 am and I am still in pajama pants. I'm going to take care of that. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Later." responds the Grimm as he pulls out his cell phone and dials Renard.

_'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry:_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

_What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?_

* * *

_Song: (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding originally by Brinsley Schwarz. From the album The New Favourites of... Brinsley Schwarz, copyright 1974, United Artists. However, the version best-known to most people is by Elvis Costello. _

_I think we need a Schnüffler (Pronounced approximately like SHNEW-flaur) on the show. Because seriously, doesn't that just sound like it would be an adorable Wesen? Especially with a British accent? And it's a great translation, meaning both Bloodhound and private eye.. I could see a whole bunch of them doing Missing Persons and Arson..._


	32. Get Together

_Following Crash and Burn and (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and [Understanding]. I seriously didn't even know there was a character limit for chapter titles..._

_Again, please offer me mental stimuli in form of reviews, suggestions, song requests, etc! I will need more ideas once this massive brain-dump is completed! _

_I own nothing, but if the writers of Grimm want to pluck me out of here and fly me to Portland to write storylines and meet the actors and OD on doughnuts, I wouldn't object... especially if they promise me Comic-Con next year..._

* * *

Saturday morning dawned warm and bright; Portland was experiencing a very mild autumn this year. It felt like a far cry from Monday morning, when they had been startled awake by the smell of fire to find their porch engulfed in flames. Monroe and Rosalee lie cuddled together in the afterglow of a particularly vigorous lovemaking session; Monroe felt Rosalee needed a distraction, and he certainly delivered. They were exchanging lazy kisses and basking in the safety of the other's company when they heard the sound of a saw. Then another saw. And voices. Actually, quite a ruckus was being raised outside.

Monroe was closest to the window, so he grabbed his robe and crept carefully over to take a peek out. His jaw dropped, and he beckoned his wife to join him. She covered herself, and when she joined him at the window, she couldn't believe what she saw.

Their yard was swarming with people. There were tables of tools and saws, stacks of paint cans. They looked at each other, and hurried to get dressed.

_Love is but the song we sing,_

_And fear's the way we die._

_You can make the mountains ring,_

_Or make the angels cry._

_Know the dove is on the wing,_

_And you need not know why._

_Come on, people, now,_

_Smile on your brother;_

_Everybody get together,_

_Try to love one another right now._

Nick watched the scene while bouncing Neil on his hip. He loved it when a plan came together. He put a bug in Bud's ear, and news caught like wildfire: a sort of Wesen Community Service Day to help rebuild Monroe and Rosalee's porch and repaint their house. The turnout was amazing: the entire Eisbiber Lodge, including Chelsea; Roddy, Ana, and Krystal; a number of the Seelenguter from the church where Monroe went undercover; Jarold and Carly Kampfer; Holly Clark; Juliette, Hank, and Captain Renard, a swarm of Mellifer, and a number of other Wesen who wanted to openly defy the Reinheitsgebot and segregation of Wesen society. Some of those present donated the tools and materials; others were donating their labor; Carly, Holly, Chelsea, Roddy, and Ana were keeping a pack of children entertained with songs and games; Hank and Juliette were manning the refreshment station, minding the gallons of coffee, tea, hot chocolate and water that Krystal brought to compliment the teetering stacks of doughnuts provided by one Sean Renard. Renard was standing across the street leaning against a Portland PD cruiser with its lights flashing, just in case anybody thought a large, mixed group of Wesen would be fun to antagonize.

Some of the Eisbiber took the lead early, and had already made the measurements and drawn up the plans. Based on what Nick accidentally overheard thanks to his super-hearing, they were going to extend the porch a little on the sides and try to install a porch swing. This was going to be great!

_Some will come and some will go;_

_We shall surely pass_

_When the one that left us here_

_Returns for us at last._

_We are but a moment's sunlight_

_Fading in the grass._

_Come on, people, now,_

_Smile on your brother;_

_Everybody get together,_

_Try to love one another right now._

Moments later, Monroe and Rosalee scrambled out of their back door fully dressed and ran around to the mass of people out front. They were greeted by cheers and shouted salutations. Nick walked over to them, still bouncing the Grimmling on his hip.

"Morning, Nick. What the hell, man?" Monroe was not able to keep a straight face long enough for Nick to even get the inkling that he was mad.

"I might have mentioned something to Bud…" Rosalee was sniffing the air.

"Eisbiber… Seelenguter… Coyotl… Reinigen… Mellifer… and they're all here to help us?" Nick smiled.

"What can I say? You two are pretty popular. Bud thought it would be nice to have what he is terming 'Wesen Community-Building Day' or something like that. You two are both pillars of the Wesen community, especially running the best Wesen-friendly shop in Portland, and the symbolism of your marriage… you know, an attack on one is an attack on all, that kind of thing. Help yourselves to something to drink… and the Captain brought a mountain of doughnuts…" Monroe and Rosalee looked at each other, and both started rolling up their sleeves. Rosalee was smiling so wide, Nick swore he could see all of her teeth.

"Ready to get your hands dirty, little vixen?" Monroe asked his wife jokingly, offering his arm.

"Aren't I always?" she responded, linking her arm with his as they set off in the direction of the saws.

Nick became aware of Renard's presence right behind him.

"They are quite resilient, aren't they?" the Captain asked.

"Sir, you have no idea."

_If you hear the song I sing,_

_You must understand:_

_You hold the key to love and fear_

_All in your trembling hand._

_Just one key unlocks them both,_

_It's there at your command._

_Come on, people, now,_

_Smile on your brother;_

_Everybody get together,_

_Try to love one another right now._

Everything was finished and the front of the house painted before dinnertime. Monroe and Rosalee insisted on treating everyone to pizza, and the mass of intermingled Wesen and humans stood and sat chatting, eating, laughing, and telling stories on the lawn. At one point, Monroe stood on one of the sturdier tables and raised his cup of soda high, offering a toast to unity and friendship. Around sunset, the crowd dispersed, and Monroe and Rosalee offering everyone they could personal thanks. Rosalee's face hurt from smiling so much. Finally the only people left were the Burkhardts (with the Grimmling asleep on Juliette's shoulder), Hank and Renard. Rosalee gave each of them a hug and excused herself, wishing them all a wonderful evening. Monroe smiled and thanked them all. He thanked them especially for helping Rosalee become herself again. But then his tone turned serious.

"Any lead on the Ziegevolk kid?" To his surprise, Renard was the one who responded.

"Don't worry about that. We've got it covered. Suffice to say you should not be having any further problems." His tone indicated details would not be forthcoming, at least not at this juncture.

"Thank you." And with that, Hank, the Burkhardts, and Renard all drifted to their vehicles, and Monroe turned and faced his home. He smiled, and went inside in search of his bride. He couldn't wait to try out that porch swing.

* * *

_Song: Get Together by the Youngbloods. From the album The Youngbloods, copyright 1966, RCA Victor._


	33. Christmas Carol

_Okay, so here's the thing, and hear me out. The song is actually called The Atheist Christmas Carol. I live in a part of the US where "atheist" is treated like a dirty word; but this truly is a gorgeous song no matter what your spiritual leanings (I don't even identify as atheist- I'm not going to tell you how I identify, but I'm not an atheist). If nothing else, at least give it the benefit of a listen; it's readily available on YouTube. It gets heavy rotation on my Christmas playlist, and I think it would be ideal for a Christmas wedding, atheist or otherwise. The world needs more songs like this and less of the Chipmunks whining for a hula hoop (oh yeah, I went there). If you're still reading this after seeing the word "atheist" multiple times and me bashing the Chipmunks (those voices are at just the right frequency to set me on edge. I don't like my Christmas music making me feel like somebody is going to strangle me from behind with a hula hoop), then you are awesome! Thanks! _

_Anyway, special thanks to D Squirrel for mentioning a Christmas wedding in a comment; this is for you! _

_Reviews, song ideas, so forth and whatnot always accepted... who knows, I might take your comments and turn them into a story!_

_I own nothing but an intense dislike of high-pitched singing._

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada**

_It's the season of grace coming out of the void, _

_Where man is saved by a voice in the distance._

_It's the season of possible miracle cures,_

_Where hope is currency and death is not the last unknown._

_Time begins to fade, age is welcome home._

Marshall Ambrose Dunn was pacing around his office. It was December 24th, and in a few hours he was going to be a married man. About two weeks ago, he had asked the lovely Miss Rebecca Cooke to be his bride after she shot a man who was trying to kill him. As of yesterday, all of Ambrose's belongings were moved out of Miss Gold's boarding house and into Becky's apartment over the general store and druggist. Neither of them had many belongings, and they figured they could be quite comfortable living there together. He checked his watch; where the hell was Nat?

His question was answered a few minutes later when Nathaniel Burke appeared in the office with two large mugs of coffee. He looked his partner up and down.

"New suit?"

"No, it was my father's. I figured this was as good a reason as any to dust it off." He adjusted his waistcoat. Ambrose's father had been just a little shorter than he… but then, many people were shorter than the Marshall. He towered over a majority of the citizens of Ruby Hill, standing a full head and shoulders above his future bride.

"It looks good. Are you getting cold feet or anything? It was a very short betrothal…" Ambrose glared at his deputy.

"Nat, when you get to be our age, any betrothal period is too long. Besides, there was really not a lot that needed to be done; neither of us have family, so why wait?

"I didn't mean anything by it, you're just pacing…"

"Nat, you've been here how long? I pace. It's my thing. I just want two o'clock to hurry up and get here."

"It'll come soon enough. Here, have some coffee."

_It's the season of eyes meeting over the noise,_

_And holding fast with sharp realization._

_It's the season of cold, making warmth, a divine intervention;_

_You are safe here, you know._

Miss Rebecca Cooke was walking slow circles around her apartment. Ambrose moved his few possessions in yesterday, and she was looking over the small pile. One of the items was a small mirror that he said belonged to his mother. She smiled at her reflection.

"Why, hello, Mrs. Ambrose Dunn! Lovely day today! Why yes, Mrs. Rebecca Dunn, it is quite a lovely day! We're fixin' to get some snow tonight, it'll be quite lovely!" She smiled wider at the sound of her new name. She adored it. With that, she turned to her mother's hope chest, a large cedar thing filled with memories and remembrances; she opened it, and gently pulled out her mother's wedding dress and veil. She said a quick prayer for Ma and Pa, and knew in her heart they were smiling down on her on her wedding day.

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

When Ambrose and Nat arrived at the church, Ambrose was quite taken aback; it seemed like the entire town of Ruby Hill showed up for the wedding. Nat was much less surprised, seeing as the Marshall and the proprietor of the general store and druggist were both very popular in the small town, especially after Miss Rebecca saved Ambrose's life at the social and he repaid her by proposing marriage in front of everyone. Even Miss Hettie, who was by no means a romantic (she said it interfered with her work), thought it was just the sweetest thing. The small church was decorated for the Midnight Mass, with candles and ribbons galore.

Reverend Turner greeted Ambrose and Nat, informing them that Miss Cooke was waiting. If it was agreeable, they would start immediately.

A few minutes later, Reverend Turner escorted Becky into the church. Her eyes met Ambrose's, and she smiled. She was wearing a very simple, high-necked gown. She looked lovely. Becky couldn't help but notice how handsome Ambrose looked, with his hair slicked back and wearing a suit she'd never seen before.

_It's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart,_

_Of feeling the full weight of our burdens._

_It's the season of bowing our heads in the wind,_

_And knowing we are not alone in fear, not alone in the dark._

The ceremony was very simple, and toward the end, Reverend Turner brought out a giant silver rosary for the Veil and Lasso Ceremony. Becky and Ambrose knelt and joined hands while Nat and Reverend Turner looped the rosary around them in a figure eight, symbolizing an unbroken, infinite bond. Reverend Turner then gently lifted Becky's veil and pulled it over Ambrose's head as well. This completed, Reverend Turner offered the wedding prayer. While he was doing that, Ambrose took the opportunity to look deep into Becky's eyes; she had some mist in her eyes, and he squeezed her hand. He wanted to remember this moment forever. When Reverend Turner finished the prayer, he and Nat removed Becky's veil, pushing it back from her face, and loosened the rosary. Ambrose and Becky stood, and, when the minister told them to seal their vows with a kiss, a wild whoop went up in the church. Reverend Turner smiled, and announced that the newlyweds were hosting a wedding barbecue at the post office and all were invited… as long as everyone was back in time for midnight mass. The new Mr. and Mrs. Dunn smiled, kissed once more, and made their way down the aisle together.

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

_Don't forget, don't forget I love, I love, I love you._

* * *

_Song: The Atheist Christmas Carol by Vienna Teng. From the album Warm Strangers, copyright 2004, Virt Records._


	34. Supernatural Superserious

_I really want there to be a big (hopefully premarital) conversation between Monroe and Rosalee where they just lay everything bare. I would also like for it to happen on their own accord, but I have a feeling there's going to be some dramatic revelation or whatever, probably courtesy of Monroe's parents. Maybe it's because I like to delve into the dark depths (as I've stated before, I like my characters damaged and showing them the way to healing and love and all that wonderful shmoop). So here's my take._

_Reviews, suggestions, song ideas, etc. always greatly appreciated!_

_I don't own anything but the desire to own something._

* * *

_Everybody here comes from somewhere_

_That they would just as soon forget and disguise._

_At the summer camp where you volunteered,_

_No one saw your face, no one saw your fear;_

_If that apparition just appeared,_

_Took you up and away from this place _

_And shared humiliation of the teenage station._

_Nobody cares, no one remembers and nobody cares._

_And you cried and you cried, 'He's alive, he's alive!'_

_And you cried and you cried and you cried and you cried._

Monroe was very confused. It was his second night in Portland, and he was lost. He had gone into Downtown for an interview at a jewelry store, and decided to take a walk around and get to know the place. He was trying to tame the beast, so to speak, so he was trying to find his car without using his Blutbad senses. So far it wasn't working very well. He hated to admit it, but he was lost. It was early December, so it was also pretty cold, and the harsh wind carried with it that wet, metallic smell that foretold snow.

Eventually, he gave up and sniffed his way back to his car, his parents' old Beetle. They were sad he'd left the pack, but it was time for him to start out on his own. They were surprised he wasn't taking Angelina with him; what they didn't realize was that she was part of the reason he was leaving. He didn't want to be an animal anymore. He realized he'd been thinking of all of this while holding onto the door handle. He shook his head; he really needed to stop zoning out. Especially now that it was dark, late, and he wasn't entirely sure how to get back to his house. Suddenly, his ears pricked a little; he heard a weird sound from the alley behind him. It sounded like somebody sniffling. He stood, debating what to do. After a few moments, he reasoned that it was probably a better idea to check it out in case it was a lost child or somebody who needed help; if it was anybody who would cause a problem, he knew he could fight them if he had to.

_If you call out safe, then I'll stop right away;_

_If the premise buckles and the room starts to shake,_

_If the details swap and the story's the same,_

_You don't have to explain. _

_You don't have to explain humiliation of your teenage station._

_And you cried and you cried, 'He's alive, he's alive!'_

_And you cried and you cried and you cried and you cried._

_And you realize your fantasies are dressed up in travesties;_

_Enjoy yourself with no regrets._

Monroe entered the alley and looked around. He again heard the sound, and targeted it as coming from behind a dumpster. He cautiously approached, and found a young woman curled up under a pile of newspapers. She was wearing a black tee shirt riddled with holes, torn jeans, and no shoes. She was shivering and sniffling, but he wasn't sure if she was awake. She smelled strange, and he couldn't quite place it. She was also very thin. He looked at her for a moment, then nudged her foot gently with his.

The girl bolted upright and retreated, woging briefly. Monroe couldn't tell what she was in the dark, as he could really only see her golden eyes. She shifted back, but the look of terror remained on her human face. She started hyperventilating. He could see her breath mingling with the cold air.

"What? What do you want? I don't have anything! Please don't hurt me!" She spoke very fast, and her eyes were bloodshot. Monroe put two and two together, and figured out this poor girl was a drug addict.

"Hey," he said, quietly, "it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. I heard you, and you sounded upset… I want to help you…" he saw the goosebumps on her arm, so he removed his coat. He was wearing a thick cardigan underneath, so he would be plenty warm. He offered it to her. She tentatively took it and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Can I get you something to eat? You look really hungry…"

"I could go for a burger right now," she answered him quietly, "but what do you want in return? I'm not really in a position to offer you sex right now… and I don't have any drugs…"

"I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in you not becoming "Das kleine Mädchen mit den Schwefelhölzern"…" she looked at him questioningly. "Sorry, the Little Match Girl. Look at you, you'll catch your death." He saw the girl mulling over what he said; he could see the conflict in her eyes. But eventually she nods, and attempts to step through the garbage with her bare feet. A broken beer bottle catches his eye, and, without thinking, without asking, he sweeps her up and carries her out of the alley to his Bug.

"I hope you don't mind, but we're going to have to go to the drive-thru. I don't have any extra shoes."

"That's fine," she responds. The closest drive-thru he finds is a Wendy's, and tells her to order whatever she wants. She asks for a Bacon Cheeseburger and a baked potato; he doubles her order and gets a potato for himself. They sit in his car in the parking lot as she attacks the food. He watches her.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" he finds the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"I honestly can't remember," she says between gulps, "I know I haven't had any hot food in at least three weeks. Everything else was picked out of the…" she stops. Monroe knows the next word was going to be 'trash'.

"Is there anywhere I can take you? A shelter? A clinic? Do you have any family nearby? I'm sorry, I'm new to the area, I don't know what's around. But I do know it's supposed to snow tonight, and.." he stops because in the dark, he can see her shoulders shaking. The jacket he gave her is pretty thick fleece, and he has the heat in the car turned all the way up, so he doesn't think she's still cold… she lets out a sob.

"I want to go home. I don't know if they'll take me back, but I want to go home… I miss…" Monroe squeezes her hand gently.

"Okay, where do they live? And I'll wait for you, and if they don't take you back, I'll take you to a shelter, okay?" She nodded and gave him the address.

Monroe tells the girl to keep his jacket, and parks a little ways away. He watches her in the rear-view mirror as she approaches a house. She knocks on the door, which is opened by a woman. The woman embraces the girl, and all but drags her into the house. Monroe smiles, starts the car, and steels himself for the attempt to find his house again.

_Everybody here comes from somewhere_

_That they would just as soon forget and disguise._

_And you cried and you cried, 'He's alive, he's alive!'_

_And you cried and you cried and you cried and you cried._

_Now there's nothing dark and there's nothing weird;_

_Don't be afraid, I will hold you near._

_From the séance where you first betrayed _

_An open heart on a darkened stage;_

_A celebration of your teenage station._

Many years later, Monroe had all but forgotten about that night when he was helping Rosalee unpack her belongings. He was so thrilled that she was moving in with him, and he had her engagement ring ready, just waiting for the right time. He pulled a thick, well-worn fleece jacket out of a box.

"Huh. I had a jacket just like this, a long time ago…"

"That's a reminder to stay clean, and to pay kindness forward. A very kind stranger gave it to me one night. He found me in an alley, behind a dumpster, and gave it to me to keep me warm. I was in torn clothing, no shoes, in December. With no expectations, he carried me to his car and took me to…"

"Wendy's. You ordered a Bacon Cheeseburger and a baked potato…"

"And he doubled it…" they said in unison. Monroe looked up at his girlfriend, and she had tears in her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, tears now flowing freely. When they parted, she leaned against his shoulder.

"That night was the night I decided to get clean. When you took me back home, my parents and Freddy welcomed me back... I might have died without you…"

"I sometimes would lie awake wondering about that girl, if it ever got better…" Now he was on the verge of tears as well. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "I'm so glad to know she did. I love you so much, Rosalee."

"I love you, too."

_It's an experience; sweet, delirious,_

_Supernatural, superserious._

_It's an experience; sweet, delirious,_

_Supernatural, superserious, wow._

* * *

_Song: Supernatural Superserious by R.E.M.. From the album Accelerate, copyright 2007, Warner Brothers._


	35. Swing Life Away

_I've got nothing to say with this one, except this song is awesome._

_As always, reviews, suggestions, song requests and the like always welcome!_

_I own nothing..._

* * *

_Am I loud and clear, or am I breaking up?_

_Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck?_

_Are we getting closer, or are we just getting more lost?_

_I'll show you mine if you show me yours first;_

_Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse._

_Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words._

_We live on front porches and swing life away._

_We get by just fine here on minimum wage._

_If love is a labor, I'll slave 'til the end;_

_I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand._

Monroe watched the sunrise from their new porch swing. He still couldn't believe the kindness of the local Wesen community. Barely a week ago, he and Rosalee were terrified for their lives, but after yesterday's display of solidarity, he couldn't help but feel better. He had great friends and a great woman.

He took the opportunity as the light started to streak across the sky to examine the swing. Somebody in the Eisbiber Lodge made it; he thought he remembered being told it was Chelsea's dad, but he couldn't remember for certain. But now that he was looking at it, he noticed that there were symbols carved into it. He recognized a few as good luck talismans, but most were unfamiliar to him. Many of the symbols were rounded and smooth, so he knew that whoever carved them took a great deal of care. He vaguely remembered being told that the porch and swing were made from wood treated to be flame retardant, and all the stains used were flame resistant. Monroe smiled to himself; kind as everyone was, they didn't want to have to do this again. He couldn't say he blamed them.

His reverie was interrupted as Rosalee came outside with two cups of coffee and joined him on the swing. Her fingers intertwined with his, and he gently kissed her hand. He pointed out the symbols to her, and she was able to recognize some of the ones he couldn't: fox, wolf, love, hope, growth, family, friendship. Rosalee smiled and Monroe wrapped his arm around her, lightly pushing the swing backward and forward.

_I've been here so long, I think that it's time to move._

_The winter's so cold, summer's over too soon._

_Let's pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow…_

It's late July, and Monroe is once again sitting on the porch swing watching the sunrise. But he is not alone; little Sophia is very fussy this morning, and he brings her outside so Rosalee can sleep a little longer. He gently pushes the swing back and forth while cuddling his little Princess close. Whenever he holds her, he always worries his heart will explode from an overabundance of love; he's been quite emotional these last two months. She's still squirming quite a bit, so he decides to gently try gravity. He sits with one long leg curled up on the swing, and uses the other to push and release, letting the swing take control. Sophia reaches up to her father, and he leans his face down to nuzzle her; she responds by grabbing his nose. He chuckles softly, then sighs. His parents are coming today. They are insistent on meeting their first grandchild, even if she is a half-breed. He knows they wouldn't hurt a baby, but he still keeps flashing back to the first time they met Rosalee, circling, snapping at her. How he had to pin them to the wall by their throats because they wouldn't stop calling her "That Thing"… He knows that if they try any of that nonsense with his daughter, they will be leaving his home in body bags… but he's really hoping that he won't even have to consider that… He is brought out of his thoughts when Sophia's hand moves from his nose to his hair; she grabs a stray lock and yanks. Hard. God, she's strong. He smiles and kisses her cheek.

_I've got some friends, some that I hardly know,_

_But we've had some time I wouldn't trade for the world._

_We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go._

_We live on front porches and swing life away._

_We get by just fine here on minimum wage._

_If love is a labor, I'll slave 'til the end;_

_I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand._

Later that day, Marjorie and Stanley arrive. They are carrying a basket. Monroe greets them at the door, and Rosalee appears with Sophia. Marjorie smiles broadly and reaches for her granddaughter. The child's eyes briefly flash red as she was handed to this unfamiliar person, and she grabbed a handful of her grandmother's long, dark hair. Monroe knew what was coming next, and his daughter obliged by yanking her grandmother's hair hard. Monroe and Rosalee tense, worried about Marjorie's reaction, but Marjorie starts laughing. Monroe and Rosalee exhale, and chuckle nervously.

"My goodness, you're strong!" Marjorie tells the little girl. "I bet you're going to be a little hellraiser, just like your father was! Oh, you should have seen him when he was a baby! He was always tearing things up!" Rosalee is shocked to realize Marjorie is talking to her.

"Umm, really? He was that bad?"

"Oh, honey, he was a little monster! Weren't you, sweetheart?" Monroe smiles, but more for the fact that his mother addressed his wife with an endearment; that is a huge step up! Marjorie passes Sophia to Stanley, and Sophia, not finding any hair to tug, grabs his glasses instead, causing him to chuckle as well.

"Anyway, Rosalee, we brought some things for you…" Rosalee and Monroe exchange glances. This is the first time Marjorie has addressed her by name! Even on their wedding day, the last time they saw her, she didn't really speak to Rosalee, speaking instead through her husband or son when she wanted her daughter-in-law's attention.

"Do you want to go out on the porch? It's such a nice day…"

A few minutes later, they are all sitting on the porch; Marjorie and Stanley sit on the swing with Sophia while Monroe and Rosalee sit on the rocking chairs. They were made by Chelsea's father, the same Eisbiber who made them the swing, and they were also carved with symbols. Stanley is holding Sophia, trying to keep his glasses out of her reach. Marjorie starts pulling items from her basket.

The first things she pulls out are a stuffed wolf and a stuffed fox.

"Estelle made these; Sweetheart, do you remember Estelle? She makes little stuffies and sells them online. Aren't they cute? But I asked for a little modification…" she points the animals' snouts toward each other, and the toys kissed. "Magnets! How cute it that?" She handed the fox to Rosalee and the wolf to Monroe, and went back down to her basket. Rosalee couldn't help noticing the detail on the stuffed fox, including a little stitched heart. And they were incredibly soft. Monroe handed her the wolf, and sure enough, the wolf also had a little heart on its chest. The two stuffies once again kissed. Rosalee smiled.

The next thing Marjorie pulls out was a large book with a painted cover.

"This was Monroe's book of fairy tales. He loved this book so much… he would sit for hours looking at the paintings, even before he could read, and make up his own stories…" she handed the book to Rosalee.

"Who made this swing? It's got so many interesting carvings." Stanley asks out of nowhere.

"A member of the local Eisbiber Lodge. He also carved these rocking chairs…"

"Eisbiber, huh? Very nice… was it that nice gentleman in your wedding party… uh, Bill?"

"Bud," answers Monroe, "and no, it was another one." Marjorie runs her fingers along the carvings.

"And what do these mean?" Rosalee points to each and translates in turn. Stanley looks intently at each one as she does so, as if trying to memorize them.

"You're building yourself quite a strange little pack, aren't you?" he asks when she was finished.

"Well… yeah. We have a lot of supportive friends…" At that moment, Sophia starts fussing.

"I think she needs a new diaper…" Stanley holds his granddaughter out to his son, who scoops her up and takes her into the house. Rosalee is left on the porch with her in-laws.

"I have something special for you, Rosalee… but first I want to apologize for how I've treated you." Marjorie looks very sad while she speaks. "I was just very surprised that my son would stray so far from his upbringing… I'm sure you'll understand someday. But I wanted Sophia to know as much about her past as she could, and since our side of the family is very well-documented, we wanted to make sure your side was as well…" Marjorie pulls out a large book and hands it to Rosalee. It has a tree on the cover, with the name Calvert inscribed in silver. "We have some friends who research genealogy professionally. I'm afraid it isn't as complete as it could be, but we managed to trace your family back to the 1100s… in fact, we were able to trace part of your family to the same town in Germany our family is from! Isn't that interesting?" Marjorie's eyes are a little misty as she reaches for Rosalee's hand. "I know it isn't enough to negate the fact that we threatened you when we first met you, and that I was… well, I was an utter bitch on your wedding day… but we want to be in our granddaughter's life… and she is going to be beautiful and strong, just like her parents… I hope you can forgive us…" Rosalee feels like she was on the verge of tears as well.

"We already have." Monroe says as he reappears with Sophia, and Marjorie reaches for her granddaughter. The baby responds by once again yanking on her grandmother's hair, again causing Marjorie to laugh. However, this time Sophia laughs, too.

"Oh my god, her first laugh!" Rosalee squeals, clutching her husband's hand excitedly. He smiles at his mother and kisses his wife's hand. Marjorie and Stanley are both smiling, Sophia continues to laugh, and Monroe can't help thinking how lucky he is, surrounded by his big, happy, mixed family.

_I'll show you mine if you show me yours first;_

_Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse._

_Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words._

_We live on front porches and swing life away._

_We get by just fine here on minimum wage._

_If love is a labor, I'll slave 'til the end;_

_I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand._

_Swing life away. Swing life away._

_Swing life away. Swing life away._

* * *

_Song: Swing Life Away by Rise Against. From the album Siren Song of the Counter Culture, copyright 2005, Geffen Records._


	36. Shadows of the Night

_Hi! I've been very busy for the past few days, so hopefully everyone has had time to catch up with me (haha). I also decided I needed a smut outlet for this series, so I created_ **Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories**. _However, it is currently false advertising, as the title story is yet to be written. So if you like M-rated stuff and liked_ **Heat** _and_ **Fantasy,** **Interrupted, **_have a gander... something about this ship just makes me want to write smut all over the place... I'll probably also throw in some things from this series, too (YAY Past Life Smut!) _

_Speaking of Past Lives, here's another one! I admit I drew some inspiration from Pat Benatar's music video for this song (which was banned in Germany because of the Nazis, just a little random fact), and also from a few apocryphal stories floating around in my family. Awesome, right? Also, Monroe with a British accent in a Royal Air Force uniform. Let that sink in for a moment. You're welcome. I also decided to species-swap for this life, because why not._

_Reviews/ Suggestions/ Song Requests always welcome! _

_As always I own nothing. But seriously, Monroe with a British accent in a RAF uniform? I would die._

* * *

**Eastern Poland, December 1941**

_We're running with the shadows of the night,_

_So baby take my hand, it'll be alright._

_Surrender all your dreams to me tonight;_

_They'll come true in the end._

_You said, 'Oh, girl, it's a cold world_

_When you keep it all to yourself.'_

_I said, 'You can't hide on the inside_

_All the pain you've ever felt.'_

_Run to my heart, but baby don't look back,_

_'cause we've got nobody else._

_We're running with the shadows of the night,_

_So baby take my hand, it'll be alright._

_Surrender all your dreams to me tonight;_

_They'll come true in the end._

Raymond Calhoun pulled himself from the wreck of his Auster. The small plane's instruments had malfunctioned while he was on a recon mission over German-occupied Poland, near the Russian border, and he had to crash-land in a forest. The impact knocked him unconscious briefly, but he knew he had to get out of there quickly. He gathered his emergency kit and, almost as an afterthought, cut the radio wiring so the enemy couldn't find their frequency. He sat for a moment under the moon and pulled out his map. He couldn't read all of it, but he should be close to a river…

The snapping of a twig made him jump, and he woged. He mentally dared whatever it was to attack him; he'd show them. There was a shuffling, and from between the trees came a young woman carrying a large sack. She cautiously approached him; when she saw his woge, she woged as well, and the female Blutbad and the male Fuchsbau sized each other up. She put her sack on the ground and started to silently rummage through it.

"Um, hello?" Raymond started quietly. She pulled a pair of pants and a shirt from her bag. She handed them to him. He stared at her for a moment. She started speaking; it could have been Polish, Russian, or German, he had no idea. Then she started miming undressing and spoke in broken English.

"Put on, English. Danger." He pulled off his Royal Air Force uniform and shimmied into the clothes she gave him. He noticed her watching him dress, but pushed the thought from his mind.

"English, listen. My name Marina. If stop us, you my brother, moot. Yes?"

"Moot? Is that a name?" She rolled her eyes.

"No, moot. You no talk?" She looked at him intently. "Understand?"

"Oh, mute! Yes, I'm mute. Understood. My name is Raymond." He extended his hand, but she waved it away.

"Come. We go fast." She pointed to the wreck. "All you need, you take?" He nodded. She handed him her sack, and put a hand on his arm. "I keep you safe."

_You know that sometimes it feels like_

_It's all moving way too fast;_

_Use every alibi and words you deny_

_That love ain't built to last._

_You can cry tough, baby, it's alright._

_You can let me down easy, but not tonight._

_We're running with the shadows of the night,_

_So baby take my hand, it'll be alright._

_Surrender all your dreams to me tonight;_

_They'll come true in the end._

Marina led him swiftly through the cold night, and Raymond never once worried for his safety; feeling her hand on his arm warmed him, and she knew her way. As they approached the small town, she slowed her pace. It was probably about an hour before dawn, and there were a few men patrolling along the stone wall. They were stationed every few hundred feet, with a man on either side of an archway leading into the town.

"Wait," she intoned quietly. Then, to his surprise, she let out a low whistle like a bird call. She stared intently at the guard closest to the gate and waited.

"What are we…" Raymond began, but she covered his mouth.

"Moot, English. Hush." She kept her hand over his mouth. He breathed in. She smelled like lemons and sage. A few minutes passed, and the guards rotated. Marina once again whistled. This time, two more whistles answered her. She grabbed his hand.

"Fast, English." They ran together toward the arch. As they approached, the guards both turned away, letting them pass. Marina led him down cobbled streets, frequently checking behind to make sure they weren't being followed. She eventually came to a house and lightly tapped a pattern on the glass of the window. A face appeared at the window, and the door opened. Marina ushered Raymond inside. He was then led down a flight of steps into a small room with a bed, a chest of drawers, a pair of candles and a wash basin. Marina was speaking breathlessly to the owner of the face, a little grey-haired man. Raymond couldn't understand anything they were saying, but that bed looked very inviting.

"Sorry to intrude, but may I sit?" he asked, a little more impatiently than he might have under normal circumstances.

"Yes, sit. This Yakov. Yakov house." She said something to Yakov, and he nodded and went upstairs. "Yakov bring food." She sat on the bed next to him. Raymond finally was able to take a look at her. She had soft brown eyes and long brown hair. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was looking intently at him as well. She took his hand.

"You safe. Yakov my aunt."

"Beg pardon?" he questioned.

"Mother brother? Aunt?"

"Uncle."

"Uncool," she repeated. "Sorry, English not much good, but best in town. That why I get pilot."

"I think it's charming, my dear. Allow me to once again introduce myself. My name is Raymond Calhoun, Royal Air Force." He extended his hand. This time she shook it.

"When first meeting Russian, handshake a-okay. After first meeting, we do this." She scooted a little closer, and kissed one cheek, then the other, then the first again. Raymond felt his cheeks burn. He was not used to women being this affectionate, even if it was polite. She smiled broadly; yes, he was sure she was, in fact, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Yakov soon returned with food, some soup and bread. He spoke quietly again to Marina and then went upstairs.

"Uncool Yakov say is time he work, but Raymond sleep. I no work, I stay with you, yes?" Raymond nodded, and at the mere mention of sleep, his eyelids became heavy. He curled up on the bed, and Marina covered him with a blanket. The last thing Raymond heard was her whispering in his ear.

"I keep you safe."

_And now the hands of time are standing still;_

_Midnight angel, won't you say you will._

_We're running with the shadows of the night,_

_So baby take my hand, it'll be alright._

_Surrender all your dreams to me tonight;_

_They'll come true in the end._

* * *

_ Song: Shadows of the Night by Pat Benatar. From the album Get Nervous, copyright 1982, Chrysalis Records._


	37. The World Is Not Enough

_So I have a thing for James Bond and have been playing with the idea of using Bond themes... and then a chance just up and presents itself. Awesome! So here's the immediate follow-up to Shadows of the Night. Thanks to LittleBounce for suggesting music by Garbage, which led me here. You are awesome!_

_As always, I like-a da feedback. I am taking insane amounts of liberty with this, so please don't yell at me for not fact-checking the information about British RAF Pilot Call Signs. I will fact-check major points, but come on, now... However, I did have to change the date because the Russians didn't decide to help the Allies until 1941. Thanks to my history geek fiancé for that... _

_Song requests and thoughts on what sort of James Bond-y shenanigans we can get Raymond and Marina into also welcome! (Shenanigans of the naked persuasion will be occurring in the M-rated companion _Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories- _shameless self plug! YAY!)__. And other lifetimes' smut as well. Because my mind is apparently a fountain of ideas when it comes to these drabbles but an outright professional-grade firehose when it comes to smut. _

_I own nothing but feels and a smutty, dirty mind..._

* * *

**Eastern Poland, December 1941**

_I know how to hurt. _

_I know how to heal._

_I know what to show _

_And what to conceal._

_I know when to talk, _

_And I know when to touch._

_No-one ever died from wanting too much._

_The world is not enough, _

_But it's such a perfect place to start, my love._

_And if you're strong enough, _

_Together we can take the world apart, my love._

Raymond woke in darkness in an unfamiliar place. He started to panic, and a hand clasped his shoulder, small but strong. His eyes adjusted. Marina. Of course.

"Hello, Raymond. You sleep good?" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, kissing his cheeks as a greeting. He felt a slight stirring in his loins, but he willed it away. Russian women were just very affectionate. Even if they were sitting on a bed, she would do this with anybody.

"What time is it?" he asked, hoping to divert his attention away from the area below his belt. The room was full of her scent, her lemon and sage… no, concentrate.

"Sun go down. You sleep long. I keep you safe. Eat, clean, and we go, yes?" She pointed to the table; some bread, cheese, and a small sliver of some sort of salted fish sat on a plate with a glass of what he hoped was beer; next to it was a pitcher, a small bowl, and two cloths. He put his hand to his cheek and was stunned how quickly the thick stubble had grown.

"I say, you wouldn't happen to have a razor and a mirror? I fancy a shave…" She cocked her head, questioning, so he mimed shaving. When she still looked confused, he took her hand and put in on his cheek, ignoring how much he adored feeling her hand on his skin. He rubbed her hand against the stubble.

"No, you need look Russian. Russian no shaaay-vuh." She was so cute as she dragged out the "a" sound. He nodded. Yes, of course. They had been told that if they went down and were picked up by allies to blend in: imitate everything about them, their gait, how they held themselves, how they held a fork. Be a monkey. She handed him the plate.

"Eat." She watched him intently as he ate. He found it rather unnerving, but realized she was probably making sure he ate everything. The glass did indeed have beer, but it was very different from what he was used to back home. He drank it anyway, and the bitterness grew on him.

As he ate, Marina looked him over. He was very tall, and very scrawny. He would need to be plumped up a little to pass for a proper Russian, but with the rationing, many of the young men were looking thinner. He had dark, curly hair and deep, dark eyes. Her fingers still tingled from when he'd grabbed her hand and rubbed his sandpapery cheek with it. She had seen pictures of English men, Chamberlain and Churchill and King George. King George looked like this man, tall, dark-haired, and serious. But Raymond was much more attractive. There were plenty of handsome men in the town, but she had known them all her life, and therefore knew their faults, their darkness. This stranger intrigued her.

He ate everything on his plate and set the plate down. He looked over at her, and she smiled and took the plate. She must have sensed he wanted a moment, because she took it upstairs and did not return immediately. He quickly stripped off his borrowed clothes and washed himself with one of the cloths.

She returned while he was still undressed.

"I'm sorry, but do you mind?" he asked as he covered himself. He heard that impatience again. She obviously didn't care that he was naked, and she took the dirty clothes from the bed. She went into the chest of drawers and pulled open two of the drawers.

"Clothes." One drawer was full of shirts, one of pants. They were of many different sizes, and she started pulling some out, trying to gauge him. The clothes she hastily pulled out last night were far too small, but now they were actually going somewhere and he needed to be properly dressed. She glance up to see him still hunched over, covering his manhood.

"Why you stand like that? Hard to tell how big you are."

"WHAT?" He shrieked, feeling like he would faint at her brazenness. She looked startled by his sudden outburst. Actually, she looked hurt.

"I try help. You need look Russian before we go to place… You big, need proper clothes…" she looked close to tears. He felt like a complete arse. After all she'd done for him, he'd misunderstood her and yelled at her. Shit. He needed to relax. Again, blend in. Russians apparently had no regard for modesty… he steeled himself, knowing that this would be the first woman who had seen him naked since he was a child. He stood up taller and dropped his hands.

"I'm so sorry, my dear… I forgot where I was…" She cautiously approached him with some shirts and a few pairs of pants. He allowed her to hold them up to him, hoping she wouldn't touch him while his pants were off. This seemed like such a dirty scenario, but he found himself wanting to see her as naked as he was… he'd only just met her, why was he wishing she would ravish him? He'd never known the touch of a woman, even when on leave and the other boys found willing ladies, he wasn't interested… Ugh, stop thinking about it! Think of anything else… He called Hitler's face to mind and felt the tension in his loins dissipate... well, at least that bastard's ugly mug was enough to keep him polite. She relieved the silence with a question.

"What is deer?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, it's an animal… uh, with antlers…" he pulled his hands up to his temples, approximating antlers. She looked confused.

"Why you call me that? Do you want eat me?"

"What? Oh, no. Dear. It's different…" for some unknown reason, he took her hand and traced the spellings on her skin. "D-E-E-R." He approximated the antlers again. "I called you D-E-A-R… it means… uh…"

"Like sweetheart?" She was on to him… she must know he wanted her… crap, crap, crap. Breathe.

"Umm, yes… but less personal?" She nodded with understanding. She put her hands up like antlers.

"Ah-lain." He imitated her. "La-poosh-ka," she said, taking his hand and kissing it.

"La-poosh-ka." She smiled.

"You learn fast. But must be fast, not late."

_People like us_

_Know how to survive._

_There's no point in living_

_If you can't feel the life._

_We know when to kiss,_

_And we know when to kill;_

_If we can't have it all,_

_Then nobody will._

_The world is not enough, _

_But it's such a perfect place to start, my love._

_And if you're strong enough, _

_Together we can take the world apart, my love._

They dressed him quickly and climbed the stairs. The house was dark.

"Yakov sleep." She said quietly. "If stop, you no talk, yes?"

"Yes. Mute. I'm your brother, and I'm mute."

"But you not defff, you hear. But look like understand talking, yes?" He nodded, but didn't speak.

"Good. I keep you safe." She led him through the town. Nobody stopped them. They came to a small building that looked like a post office. She looked left and right and, when sure they weren't being watched, tugged him into an alleyway. They went around the back and down a small flight of steps. She tapped the same pattern she had tapped on the glass the night before on the door. The door opened, and they stole inside.

Raymond could not believe his eyes. There was a whole little command center, with multiple radios, a telegraph, a large table with a map, books… all hidden under what he thought was a post office. Marina led him over to one of the radios and started speaking to the operator. She must have introduced them, because she said "Raymond" and the man extended his hand. Raymond smiled and shook it, trying to be polite. Marina slapped the back of his head.

"You Russian. Russian no smile without reason. People think you stupid. Now Dmitry think you stupid."

"Oh, terribly sorry. I was only trying to be polite…" Dmitry rolled his eyes and handed the headphones to Marina. She also rolled her eyes as she took them, holding one side to her ear while offering the other to him. She held the microphone and started talking to the person on the other end. First in Russian, then in Polish, then French. It took some doing, but eventually they got patched through to somebody who spoke English. The whole time, Raymond was enjoying being so close to her, smelling the lemon and sage… his body was drawn to her, and the fact that she was so smart only made him want more… to know more, to see more… Eventually, a familiar voice crackled over the headset.

"Boy Blue." Raymond, again being impolite, grabbed the microphone. Marina released her headphone to give him privacy.

"Boy Blue, Brown Fox. Yes, I'm alive. No time to explain, chap. I'm somewhere in R-plus-5. What are my orders… Yes, I can wait a moment. Thank you." A moment passed, then he started speaking again. "Oh, good. Yes, sir, Brown Fox, reporting from somewhere in R-plus-5. Yes. Yes… I see. Yes, I will, Sir. Indeed. Let me ask." He turned to Marina. "Where, exactly, am I?"

"Tell him B-plus-8."

"B-plus-8… yes. Yes. I have. Yes. Indeed. Those are my orders then? Very well. Thank you. Yes, I will regularly. Thank you… ummm…" he looked at Marina again. "Is Red Wolf taken? Splendid. Thank you. Over and out." He handed the microphone back to Marina and sat down on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Marina dropped the connection and handed it back to Dmitry. She kneeled next to him.

"I'm to embed myself." She looked confused. "I live here now. I'm to get a job, and live among you. Keep tabs on everything, and send periodic messages. This is my life now, here in… what's B-plus-8?"

"Bialystok. Should be Poland, now Russia. That is fine. Come, we will make you new identity." She offered her a hand. He took it, and was once again flooded with warmth. Well, if he got to be with her, maybe this wouldn't be so bad…

_I feel safe. I feel scared. _

_I feel ready, and yet unprepared._

_The world is not enough, _

_But it's such a perfect place to start, my love._

_And if you're strong enough, _

_Together we can take the world apart, my love._

_The world is not enough._

_The world is not enough._

_No, nowhere near enough._

* * *

_Song: The World Is Not Enough by Garbage. From the album The World Is Not Enough, copyright 1999, Radioactive Records._


	38. Moonraker

_So, this is now going to unofficially be James Bond lifetime haha. We pick up where we left off with The World Is Not Enough._

_Reviews, feedback, suggestions, etc. welcome, as are song requests. _

_I own nothing..._

* * *

_Where are you? _

_Why do you hide?_

_Where is the moonlight trail _

_That leads to your side?_

_Just like the moonraker goes_

_In search of his dream of gold,_

_I search for love,_

_For someone to have and to hold._

_I've seen your smile in a thousand dreams,_

_Felt your touch, and it always seems_

_You love me, you love me._

Raymond Calhoun's orders from his superiors in Britain were to embed himself in Bialystok, Poland; however, upon consultation with the leader of the Soviet resistance in the town, that looked like less and less of a good idea. The leader, Boris, and Marina had explained in broken English that the Nazis had taken Bialystok and were forcibly removing all non-Germans. The Jewish residents were being rounded up and forced into a small, cramped portion of the city behind barbed wire. There was no way he could pass for a German, even a mute one. They also determined that Marina and her family were no longer safe, and set about forging papers.

During this conversation, Raymond learned that Yakov was actually Marina's father's brother (she had a strange thing for mixing up male versus female family member words). Marina's father was Russian; her mother was a Pole from Bialystok, and Marina was born there, the only child. Yakov, a widower, came to help Marina's mother, Bronka, when her husband died; Bronka had also since died. That was why Marina could speak both Russian and Polish, and why she identified as Russian. It all made sense. Still didn't explain how she could speak French and English, but that was another conversation for another day, he supposed.

The plan to make it back to Russia was to pass Marina off as Yakov's daughter and Raymond as her mute husband. Once they entered Russia, Raymond would contact Britain again and explain what happened. Stalin would most likely not welcome him, they said, and if it came to it, he might have to find his way to Sweden to get back to Britain. They had to leave as soon as possible, and Raymond was not, under any circumstances, to speak to anyone. Raymond nodded. He was frightened, but Marina entwined her fingers in his, and he felt a peace wash over him. This woman was like a drug. His name was now Alexei Ivanovich Lapin and she was Marina Yakovovna Lapin. She laughed, and explained that in French, Lapin means rabbit. She also explained his middle name meant he was the son of Ivan Lapin and she was the daughter of Yakov and wife of Alexei Lapin.

_Where are you?_

_When will we meet?_

_Take my unfinished life_

_And make it complete._

_Just like the moonraker knows_

_His dreams will come true someday,_

_I know that you are only a kiss away._

They stole back through the streets in the night, and upon reaching Yakov's house, Marina locked all the doors and dragged Raymond upstairs to her uncle's room. She gently shook him awake, and started speaking to him very fast. He rubbed his eyes and pointed at Raymond, apparently asking a question. Marina answered him, and he appeared to be protesting. Soon, the two were engaged in what Raymond could only describe as the quietest shouting match he'd ever witnessed. And he didn't understand a word of it. Eventually, Yakov sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Da." The only word in the conversation Raymond recognized was the word for yes. Marina took his hand and led him down to their basement room. She lit the two candles.

"What was all that, my dear?" he asked, sitting down on the bed. Marina started rummaging through the chest of drawers until she found a small bag.

"I explain plan to Uncool Yakov. He say he not trust you to be moot. Also say I no act like wife." She dumped the small bag into her hand. Jewelry. Rings. Yes, if he was going to be her husband, they needed rings. She tried on a few, placing them on her right ring finger. She found one that fit, and passed the pile to him. The first he tried on actually fit him rather well, and he stared at it. She put her head on his shoulder and her hand next to his.

"With this ring, I thee do wed." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. She smiled.

"You kiss bride now?"

"I'm sorry?" Before he could protest further, she leaned in and kissed him full on the lips. Oh, God. He had snogged a few girls before, but not one of them possessed the passion she was displaying now. She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close to her. Oh, yes, he was dead. This was heaven. She broke the kiss, but didn't pull away.

"I like you. I want like you more. I feel…" she couldn't seem to find the words in English. Getting frustrated, she traced the invisible outline of what appeared to be a butterfly on the back of his hand. She then imitated one flying with her hand toward the candle. She looked at him expectantly.

"Like a moth to a flame." She felt the same way he did, then. Drawn to her for seemingly no reason, with no logical explanation.

"Like a mawf to a flaymuh." She put one hand over her heart, and put the other over his. That single, sweet gesture was enough to make him throw his British propriety out the window. He pulled her close to him and kissed her, hoping it was nearly as passionate as the one she had given him. She melted into him, and they just fit together, like puzzle pieces.

When they parted again, he kept her wrapped in the safety of his arms.

"We leave tomorrow, midnight. Only take important things, yes?"

_I've seen your smile in a thousand dreams,_

_Felt your touch, and it always seems_

_You love me, you love me._

* * *

_Song: Moonraker by Shirley Bassey. From the album Moonraker, copyright 1979, EMI._


	39. Lover of the Light

_And now we return to the present lifetime- don't worry, more James Bond-y goodness will be coming soon enough! But considering this is the second drabble I've written that involves Monroe singing, I think it's safe to say that I want to hear Silas Weir Mitchell sing. I don't care if it's terrible, but I think it would be really sweet for him to sing to Rosalee. Because serenading is always adorable and romantic, even if it's terrible._

_Also, credit for the comment about being pregnant with a girl goes to my dad. He says that's how he knew I was a girl, because I was apparently a real pain of a pregnancy for my poor mother haha. _

_Reviews, song requests, ideas, etc. always welcome!_

_As always, I own nothing._

* * *

Monroe was in the middle of his morning yoga routine when Rosalee padded into the living room. He looked up from his downward dog position and smiled at his gorgeous wife. Her hair was frizzy and sticking out all over the place, with one hand wrapped around the bump of her stomach and the other rubbing the small of her back. She was 18 weeks pregnant, just starting to show, and later that day they were scheduled to go for another checkup and hopefully find out the sex of their baby. As violent as her morning sickness had been, both Rosalee and Monroe thought it was likely a girl; Monroe told her his father always said two women could never share the same skin without fighting the entire time, which made Rosalee laugh.

"Hey, pretty lady. Come to enjoy the show?" He wiggled his butt at her, and was rewarded for the display with a resounding slap.

"Hey!" he yelped, losing his balance and falling over.

"Well then you shouldn't present your tail to me like that!" She laughed as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Best I've felt in a while. I haven't thrown up yet, so it's a start… However, my back hurts…"

"I think I might know something that'll help you. Here, come down here." He offered her his yoga mat. The squishy blue material felt good under her palms. "This is called the Cat-Cow…" she couldn't help giggling. "Look, I didn't name it, but it's good for back pain." Side by side, she watched what he did. They were on their hands and knees. "Don't lock your elbows. Okay, now there are two parts to this. When you breathe in, curl your toes in, dip your back, and stick your chest out, like this." He demonstrated, and she copied him. He looked at her form, and, satisfied, continued. "Good. That's the Cow. Now, we Cat. Arch your back up like an angry cat, and straighten your arms and feet gently." She mimicked him, and he looked her over again. "Okay, now we'll try six repetitions. Ready?" she nodded. "Deep breath in, and Cow… hold it… Cat, breathe out as much as you can." They repeated it five more times, and she moved into a sitting position on the mat. He sat next to her. "How do you feel now?"

"Better. Do you always do your yoga to Mumford and Sons?"

"Nah, it's just what I was feeling this morning. My favorite song is coming up, though… Wanna try another position?" She nodded. "Okay, this is called the Cobbler… sit with your back straight and the soles of your feet together. You can lean on me." He sat behind her, but kept his legs out straight on either side of her. "Now push your knees toward the floor as far as they're willing to go, but don't strain yourself. And sit as long as you feel comfortable."

The music changed, and he started singing softly into her ear.

"_And in the middle of the night,_

_I may watch you go;_

_There'll be no value in the strength_

_Of walls that I'll have grown;_

_There'll be no comfort in the shade_

_Of the shadows thrown;_

_But I'll be yours if you'll be mine."_

Rosalee rolled her head gently from side to side, and he continued to sing against her neck while rubbing her shoulders.

_"Stretch out my life,_

_And pick the seams out._

_Take what you like,_

_But close my ears and eyes._

_Watch me crumble over and over._

_ I have done wrong, _

_So build your tower;_

_But call me home,_

_And I will build a throne_

_And wash my eyes out never again._

_But love the one you hold,_

_And I will be your goal;_

_To have and to hold:_

_A lover of the light."_

Rosalee melted back into her husband, and started rubbing her belly. He continued singing to her, trailing his hands gently up and down her arms. Soon, too, his hands found her stomach and he started rubbing as well. The two started swaying gently together, to the left and to the right

_"With skin too tight,_

_And eyes like marbles,_

_You spin me high_

_And watch me as I glide_

_Before I tumble_

_Homeward, homeward._

_I know I tried,_

_I was not stable;_

_And flawed by pride,_

_I miss my sanguine eyes._

_So hold my hands up;_

_Breathe in and breathe out."_

Rosalee found herself joining in the next chorus, and wrapped an arm behind her, around his neck.

_"But love the one you hold,_

_And I will be your goal;_

_To have and to hold:_

_A lover of the light."_

They continued to sway, as the music's tempo slowed, and Monroe continued singing, wrapping one hand protectively around her and their child, and holding her hand in the other.

_"And in the middle of the night,_

_I may watch you go;_

_There'll be no value in the strength_

_Of walls that I'll have grown;_

_There'll be no comfort in the shade_

_Of the shadows thrown;_

_You may not trust the promises _

_Of the change I'll show;_

_But I'll be yours if you'll be mine."_

Rosalee took the musical break to kiss her husband. She loved feeling wrapped up in his protective embrace, knowing that he would never let anything happen to her or their little one. Pup or kit, he will be an excellent Daddy. They broke the kiss and continued to sway as they sang together, cheek to cheek.

"_So love the one you hold,_

_And I will be your goal;_

_To have and to hold:_

_A lover of the light._

_So love the one you hold,_

_And I will be your goal;_

_To have and to hold:_

_A lover of the light."_

The song ended, and Monroe gently kissed Rosalee's temple.

"Feel better?" She nodded. "Want to try some breakfast?"

"Sure." He slowly disengaged from her, and gently helped her up.

"Have I told you lately how gorgeous you are? And how I much I love you?" She smiled, and rubbed her belly.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice," she said with a smile.

* * *

_Song: Lover of the Light by Mumford & Sons. From the album Babel, copyright 2012, Island Records._


	40. The World That She Sees

_So I'm still on my weird Christmas music kick. Randomness, I know. So here, have some more Daddy Monroe feels!_

_As always, reviews, suggestions, song requests, etc. make my day! Seriously, I squee when I get them. Yay, validation!_

_As always, I own nothing. _

* * *

_There in this night, there is a life,_

_Someone who waits for me. _

_Only a child, dreams and a smile_

_Waiting to play._

_And now she's found snow on the ground,_

_Magic has been set free;_

_She's waited here all of this year _

_Just for this day._

Monroe was in the middle of a fairly pleasant dream when he felt something small and soft, but strong, hit his shoulder. He opened one eye and found himself nose-to-nose with his five-year-old daughter, Sophia. He could hear Rosalee's deep breaths beside him; that made sense. Sophia always gravitated to him when she was scared, upset, or excited, while the twins, now two, gravitated toward their mother. Their pediatrician, a perky Genio Innocuo named Jordana Honig, said it was not unusual for mixed-breed children to be predisposed toward the parent they take after; that is not to say, she continued, that they don't love their other parent, it just means they are more likely to find comfort with the parent who most smells like them. Therefore, a little Blutbad pup is going to want to do more with Daddy, while a pair of twin Fuchsbau are going to seek their Mommy when they're hurt or upset. They will probably grow out of it, especially as the girls will seek guidance from their mother and the boys from their father. So now Monroe was face-to-face and eye-to-eye with his little pup.

"Daddy," she whispered excitedly "Daddy, get up! Santa's coming!" He shook himself mentally. What day was it, anyway? It couldn't be Christmas already… no, it was Christmas Eve. What time was it? A quick glance at one of the many clocks told him three in the morning.

"No, honey. Santa is coming later. Go back to bed." She grabbed his hand and yanked as hard as she could. He felt himself jolt a good six inches toward her; man, she was strong. If she kept this up, she'd be an Olympic athlete by the time she was fifteen.

"No, come on." She whispered, threatening to tug again. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and followed her. She scurried quietly ahead of him down the hall into her room and onto her bed. She had recently gotten a big girl bed, which she insisted needed to be pushed up to the wall next to the window. Monroe protested at first. But what if somebody tries to kidnap her? He asked Rosalee, who conceded that after the incident during her pregnancy with the twins that it was a valid concern. But she reminded him that (a) their daughter was a light sleeper anyway, and (b) she was a biter. While she had not had her first full woge yet, she did have a remarkable talent for leaving bite marks that looked like a wolf attack when she was angry that looked distinctly different from the 'love bites' she gave when she played or wanted attention. Since Sophia's speech had been a little delayed, almost everyone in their circle of friends had received a love bite at some point, mostly because she wanted attention, the little ham. Monroe would never forget when she bit Bud on the hand when he came to fix the refrigerator; she wanted a hug, but Bud totally flipped out, panicked, and went full woge because he thought she was attacking him. Monroe couldn't help himself, and ended up on the floor laughing while Bud had scrambled up on the counter out of her reach. She shrank back and latched onto her father when Bud screamed, but when Daddy sank to the floor laughing and tousling her hair, she started laughing, too. His little girl was, in fact, a pistol.

She waved him over to the window and pointed into the darkness. There in the darkness the first snow of the season was quietly falling, sparkling against the purple-grey sky. A pretty good blanket of it had already fallen, probably at least four inches.

"It's pretty, isn't it, honey?" he asked quietly.

"Can we go out? I promise I'll be quiet and we won't wake Mommy or Keef or Kelly…" she turned her little face up to him and clasped her hands together. Ugh, not the begging… he couldn't say no when any of his children begged… or his wife, for that matter. When did he become such a pushover? The moment you met your wife, the little voice in his head reminded him, and it only got worse the first time he held Sophia after she was born.

"Okay, Soph, but quietly. Do you remember where Mommy put your new snowsuit?" Sophia nodded and lightly bounced over to her closet, pulling out the lime green insulated overalls.

"My coat and boots are downstairs." She whispered.

"Okay, well Daddy's going to get dressed; why don't you go potty and I'll meet you back here to help you. And don't forget to wash your hands." She nodded dutifully and scurried off quietly in the direction of the bathroom. Monroe looked down at his fleecy pajama bottoms and decided he could just throw some jeans on over them. Heavy socks and a sweater over his tee shirt, then his boots, gloves, hat, and coat should do it. Hopefully she won't want to be out there for long.

He returned to his oldest child's room a few moments later, and found her putting on fuzzy socks and a thick sweater. He couldn't help smile; she was definitely his kid.

"Okay, you ready for the snowsuit?" She nodded, and held onto his hand for balance as she stepped into the lime green pile of puff. When she was secured, they went down stairs to get their hats, coats, gloves, and shoes.

_And then the night comes alive_

_With lights to dazzle and_

_Everything's extraordinary,_

_Nothing is left ordinary._

_Christmas had come_

_With its long memory._

_And in my mind, it always will be_

_The world that she sees. _

A few minutes later, Monroe opened the door and his daughter rocketed past him into the night, leaving little footprints in the powder. He reached to flip the switch to turn on the Christmas decorations, but thought better of it and closed the door quietly. He turned around to find his yard empty with a set of tracks leading off the porch. They weren't heading toward the street (she was too careful for that, even if it was four in the morning. Again, she was her father's daughter), but seemed to be going toward the backyard. He smiled and followed the footprints, only to be met with a faceful of snow as he rounded the corner. She had quite an arm on her, and pretty good aim. He'd have to remember to sign her up for tee-ball in the spring. He fell to his knees.

"I'm hit, I'm hit! I think I'm dying… tell my wife and kids I love them!" Sophia's response was to keep pelting him with handfuls of snow as he writhed. When he stopped moving, she drew closer to him (as she was also Rosalee's daughter) to inspect her handiwork; she lightly poked him with her foot. Nothing. She leaned in closer, and he suddenly grabbed her. She shrieked and giggled as he tickled her chin and lift her up off the ground. He set her down and she lay down in the snow next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. They looked up into the sky and watched the snow fall around them.

"I love Christmas, Daddy," she said quietly.

"I do, too, pumpkin."

"More than Mommy?"

"No, not more than Mommy. I love Mommy more than Halloween, too." The child gasped.

"But Daddy, you love Halloween more than anything!" He slowly sat up, crossing his legs. He pulled his little girl into his lap. He made sure she was looking him in the eyes. She looked exactly like her mother in miniature, like a little living doll version of Rosalee.

"No, I love you, and the twins, and your mother more than anything. More than Halloween and Christmas combined." She gasped again; he supposed that was a lot of love for a five year old to process. "You'll understand someday, but don't ever forget that, okay? Promise?" She nodded solemnly. She never broke promises.

_Caught in this night, pieces of light_

_Glitter and play for you;_

_And made of glass, dreams from the past_

_Wait for this day._

_And if you try, look in the sky:_

_One star is shining through._

_And on this eve, you can't believe_

_It's far away._

They spent another half hour making snow angels before she started looking drowsy. He carried her into the house and downstairs into the basement to hang up their wet clothes. He found warm pajama pants and socks in the clean laundry basket and helped her put them on. He then carried her up to her room, pulling her covers up to her chin and kissing her goodnight again. He looked in on Rosalee to make sure she was still sleeping, checked on the twins, and went downstairs. Their Christmas decorations were more sparse this year as Keith and Kelly were at the "unholy terrors that destroy everything" stage of their development. Sophia hadn't been nearly this difficult, but then there was also only one of her. He plugged in the lights of the Christmas tree and lay down on the couch, watching the colored lights dance and throw their shadows along the walls. He thought about what he had told his daughter outside in the snow. Yes, he loved his family more than anything; he often felt so full of love that he was just going to explode and drown everyone around him in emotion. When Rosalee first became pregnant, he was worried; he'd never seen himself as the father type. But now, he realized it had been there all along in his protective instincts, in the way he liked to share information and teach… it was always there, it just needed the right lens to sharpen the focus.

He was so lost in thought and hypnotized by the lights he didn't hear her come down the stairs. He didn't realize she was there until she silently climbed up onto the couch and curled up on his chest. He pulled a quilt over their bodies, and she snuggled closer to him, her eyes watching the lights as well. Eventually her breathing slowed and evened out, and he kissed the top of her head. Soon, he too was seduced by the Sandman, and fell asleep, one arm under his head, the other around his little girl. That is how Rosalee found them in the morning, and she took a picture of the scene. That would always be Sophia's favorite picture of herself with her father.

_And then the night comes alive_

_With lights to dazzle and_

_Everything's extraordinary,_

_Nothing is left ordinary._

_Christmas had come_

_With its long memory._

_And in my mind, it always will be_

_The world that she sees._

* * *

_Song: The World That She Sees by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. From the album The Christmas Attic, copyright 1998, Lava Records._


	41. Skyfall

_And now we continue with James Bond lifetime, picking up from Moonraker! Yay! There are implications of smut and naked stuff here; the full extent of which will be hashed out in the next chapter of _Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories. _I actually wrote the smut first, then built the rest of the story, because that's apparently how I roll. So I will probably be posting that later today with the title Skyfall- The Smutquel or something to that effect. __  
_

_Also, FYI, I'm going to be with spotty internet for a few days, so I will post this, the smut, and one more follow-up today. I also have a 3 story series in my head which will probably come next... I hope you all have a great weekend, and I'll catch you on the flip-side!_

_Reviews, song suggestions, etc. always welcome. _

_As always owning nothing, but I really wish I could illustrate some of these..._

* * *

_This is the end;_

_Hold your breath and count to ten._

_Feel the earth move and then_

_Hear my heart burst again._

The next night at midnight, Marina, Raymond, and Yakov stole away from the house. Each had a small bag full of clothes; they were travelers, so they carried essentials, but each bag had a hidden compartment full of small valuables that they could sell or barter if needed. Raymond was reminded multiple times before they left that he was not to say a word to anyone, no matter the circumstance; he was to react, act as if he knew what was going on, but remain silent. Marina asked him also to remember that he was her "soo-proog", or husband. Yakov also said something to Marina which caused her to roll her eyes. She then wrapped her arms around one of Raymond's, speaking in a sing-song voice that sounded to Raymond like poisoned honey. Sarcasm, most likely. She turned again to him and wrapped her arms around him in a genuine hug.

"Remember, I keep you safe."

_For this is the end;_

_I drowned and dreamt this moment._

_So overdue, I owe them._

_Swept away, I'm stolen._

_Let the sky fall;_

_When it crumbles,_

_We will stand tall_

_And face it all together. _

They took some provisions, and swept out into the night, past the guards and into the forest.

They walked through the woods for what seemed like hours in the snow, Yakov and Marina taking turns guiding. Eventually, they came to a road, and saw a light in the distance. Candles. An inn grew up from the snow as they approached, and Raymond felt intense relief.

Even though it was very early in the morning, there were still quite a few people in the tavern. Yakov asked the bartender something, and the man nodded and went upstairs. Three human men, wearing German uniforms, eyed Marina and Raymond suspiciously. Marina snuggled into Raymond's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, staring ahead; he was tired, so he may as well act it, right?

The barkeeper returned, beckoning them to follow. Upstairs, Yakov was shown into one room, while another room a few doors down was offered to Marina and Raymond.

_Let the sky fall;_

_When it crumbles,_

_We will stand tall_

_And face it all together. _

_At skyfall, that skyfall._

Once they were in the room, it became clear that in order to make their story work (as they both could tell there was someone sitting outside the door), they would have to act as husband and wife. In the darkness, they both sacrificed their virginity to someone they had known less than a week for their ruse; however, both thoroughly enjoyed it, and they made love a second time as well. Raymond was glad Marina remembered the whole thing about him being mute, making sure to cover his mouth when he threatened to cry out in pleasure. With every nerve in their bodies pleasantly tingling, they dressed, shared one more kiss and drifted off to sleep.*

_Skyfall is where we start,_

_A thousand miles and poles apart;_

_Where worlds collide and days are dark._

_You may have my number, _

_You can take my name,_

_But you'll never have my heart._

_Let the sky fall (let the sky fall); _

_When it crumbles (when it crumbles),_

_We will stand tall (we will stand tall)_

_Face it all together. _

_Let the sky fall (let the sky fall); _

_When it crumbles (when it crumbles),_

_We will stand tall (we will stand tall)_

_Face it all together at skyfall._

_Let the sky fall; when it crumbles, we will stand tall._

_Let the sky fall; when it crumbles, we will stand tall._

A few hours later, around sunrise, the couple were startled awake. Two of the German men from earlier whispered something Raymond couldn't understand but Marina did, and they dressed, took their bags, and marched out of the room with guns trained on them. The third German had similarly woken Yakov. The three Germans marched the two Russians and the Englishman out the door and into the woods. Raymond's sense of direction was not so terrible that he didn't recognize that the Germans were leading them closer to the Russian border. He wondered if they knew. Marina held onto his arm, and he put a hand over hers, gripping it tightly. He squeezed her hand in Morse Code, having found out the night before that she knew it; after their first round, she asked him if he enjoyed their dance. He tapped back that he had, and she told him she enjoyed it, too.

"What happen?" He squeezed.

"They know we spies. They kill us."

"Plan?"

"Yes. Humans. Wait til not pay attention, be animal, kill."

He made sure to keep a straight face. He hoped he appeared stoic in the face of his demise.

After a while, the Germans stopped in a little clearing. They turned on the old man and the young couple, and asked a question that Raymond didn't understand. Yakov said something back, and he and Marina woged and attacked. Raymond took his cue, and followed suit.

One of the Germans fired his weapon in surprise while the other two just looked confused. The shot hit Yakov in the face, and he went down. Marina attacked the man whose gun went off, and she ripped out his throat. Raymond wrestled the gun from the soldier closest to him and shot him in the heart point blank. He saw Marina wrestling with the last soldier, and, since the best chance he had of not hitting Marina was to shoot the man in the leg, that was what he did. The man dropped, and Marina rushed over to Yakov's body while Raymond started going through their bags and the coats of the dead soldiers, stuffing his pockets with important things: their forged marriage certificate and passports, money, as many small valuables as he could. Raymond saw Marina lie down next to the body, and he heard her crying, and he continued to busy himself so she could have a moment. Yakov was the last of her family, so naturally she would be upset. He looked up in time to see the last German, dragging his wounded leg behind him, crawl up to Marina's distraught figure and stab a bayonet into her stomach. Raymond raced over, removed the bayonet from Marina and stabbed it into the soldier over and over.

_Where you go, I go._

_What you see, I see._

_I know I'd never be me_

_Without the security _

_Of your loving arms_

_Keeping me from harm;_

_Put your hand in my hand_

_And we'll stand._

_Let the sky fall (let the sky fall); _

_When it crumbles (when it crumbles),_

_We will stand tall (we will stand tall)_

_Face it all together. _

Raymond stabbed with the bayonet once more into the heart of the soldier, and, satisfied the man was dead, turned to the crumpled form of his lover. She had been stabbed below the navel; not particularly deadly, but still dangerous. He took one of the shirts from one of the bags and wrapped it tightly around her waist, holding another thick shirt in place over the wound, hoping the pressure would be enough.

"Marina, Marina, please stay awake. Stay with me, please…" He begged as picked her up gently, making sure the cloth was wrapped tightly on her wound.

"I here… I keep you safe." She whispered, snuggling closer to him. She seemed to be losing a lot of blood, so he kept talking to her, asking her questions and making her answer him. He didn't care about the ruse anymore; he wanted her safe. She looked pale, but he soldiered on. She had to live. She saved his life multiple times over… and he loved her. He needed her. He saw the border in the distance, and picked up his pace. Somehow, miraculously, she was still conscious. The guards rushed out to meet them, and Marina calmly spoke to them in Russian before passing out. She looked so small and pale in his arms, not like the spitfire who had ripped out a man's throat less than an hour ago. With the guards' help, Raymond carried her into their station, then down the stairs into a bunker. A medic was called, and Marina was taken away from him, put on a wheeled table, and taken behind a door. Raymond could not help himself; he collapsed onto the floor, weeping, praying silently that she would be brought back through that door alive. One of the men spoke to him in Russian. Raymond no longer cared about the charade.

"I don't speak Russian." Another man stepped forward, and gently put his hand on Raymond's shoulder.

"English?" Raymond nodded, still feeling like he would rather drown in his tears than talk. "It a-okay. She be fine soon. You take care of her, we take care of you, yes?" Raymond took deep breaths, willing the tears to stop. Eventually he was able to speak.

"What day is it?" He asked, not that it particularly mattered.

"It is twenty-four December. Come, have something to eat. You have been walking long." Raymond was given a blanket and some sort of hot soup and beer. He didn't want to eat, not knowing what was happening to his lovely Marina… the gentle hand of the English-speaking Russian reappeared on his shoulder.

"My name Nikolay. Eat. You do her no good if you starve to death." Raymond nodded again, and ate the soup while Nikolay watched him. These Russians must have a strange fascination with watching people eat.

"What did she tell you?" Raymond asked when he finished his soup and he started on the beer.

"She let us know you on our side, not spies, and then she say 'keep him safe'. I think she love you."

"I'm think I love her, too."

_Let the sky fall (let the sky fall); _

_When it crumbles (when it crumbles),_

_We will stand tall (we will stand tall)_

_Face it all together at skyfall._

_Let the sky fall. We will stand tall at skyfall._

* * *

_Song: Skyfall by Adele. Released as a single, copyright 2012, XL Recordings_

_*Just a reminder if you didn't read the A/N at the top of the page, the full smutty episode may be found in _Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories. _Just if you want a little more than just that blurb... _


	42. We Have All the Time in the World

_This is a sort of epilogue to the James Bond life- I like it so much, though, I may revisit it..._

_Just a reminder, I will have spotty Internet for the next few days, but I have a nice three story series itching to be written... _

_As always, reviews, song requests, suggestions, etc. = Happy WolfStar!_

_Owning nothing, per usual._

* * *

_We have all the time in the world;_

_Time enough for life to unfold_

_All the precious things love has in store._

_We have all the time in the world;_

_If that's all we have, you will find_

_We need nothing more._

_Every step of the way will find us _

_With the cares of the world far behind us._

_We have all the time in the world_

_Just for love, nothing more, nothing less, only love._

It had been nearly a year since Raymond and Marina's daring escape from Bialystok to Russia. Marina needed surgery when they crossed the border, and when she had recovered enough to be able to speak to him, she told him that the medic said she would never have children. She asked him with tears in her eyes if he still wanted her. He kissed her hand and told her that she owned his heart. He didn't tell her he had nearly died of worry waiting to hear the results. Since she had no family left, he asked her to come back to Britain with him. He got it approved by his superiors, informing them that she could speak at least four languages and was excellent with codes; the Russians believed the forged marriage certificate, so they allowed it as well. Raymond was offered a promotion to train new recruits on how to deal with being caught behind enemy lines.

Marina seemed unsure of England at first, but soon fell in love with the many landmarks and statues that rose from the rubble of a recovering London. Her favorite was Thornycroft's statue of Boadicea across from the Palace of Westminster. That was where they were walking this evening, as a gentle snow was falling. Even though there was a war raging around them, some people had seen fit to burn some cheery candles for Christmas (that could all be extinguished quickly should the air raid sirens come to life, of course). Raymond took Marina's hand as they crossed the Westminster Bridge toward the statue. They stopped for a moment and watched the snow fall into the River Thames, and she squeezed his hand. He must have seemed nervous or otherwise agitated, because she put her head on his shoulder and nuzzled him gently. Whenever she touched him, it was like slipping into a warm bath, and he always felt safe with her. He wanted to be warm and safe with her always.

They reached the statue and Marina looked admiringly up at Boadicea and her daughters, riding in their grand chariot. The strong stone women were getting a dusting of snow. Raymond watched Marina's face glow as the snow clung to her hair, slowly melting into little drops at the tips of her hair, the cute page-boy style framing her face like curtains around the most beautiful stage he'd ever seen. Even in the darkness, she was radiant. He had to do this.

"Marina…" he began, and she turned and smiled at him. Oh, dear god, he loved her.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me, my dear, but I need to ask you a very important question… is that alright?"

"Indubitably," she answered, smiling. "I learned a new word today!" Her English was much improved, but her accent was still very heavy. His knees felt like jelly, but he pushed on, remembering their first kiss, how she had pretty much thrown herself at him.

"You know I love you, don't you…Lapushka?" She blushed and nodded. He only called her Lapushka when they were alone; more often than not, it foretold a very passionate lovemaking session. She really hoped he had no intention of asking her for a roll in the snow… at least not here, where they would easily be found.

"Yes, I know…"

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, silly man!" She laughed as he looked away shyly. She took his chin into her hand so he was looking her in the eyes; they were sparkling. "Why would you think differently?"

Damnit, he said to himself, if you don't do it right now you may as well throw yourself into the River. LOOK AT HER. You want her! You want this! DO IT, Coward! He sank to one knee, taking Marina's hands in his.

"Marina… will you be my wife? My real wife? That is, will you marry me?"

The next moment found Raymond Calhoun on his back in the snow next to the statue of Boadicea where a very excited future Mrs. Marina Calhoun had tackled him and was now planting kisses all over his face.

"Oh, dear… I'll take that as a yes then?" She nodded next to his cheek and whispered in his ear.

"Da."

_Every step of the way will find us _

_With the cares of the world far behind us._

_We have all the time in the world_

_Just for love, nothing more, nothing less, only love_

* * *

_Song: We Have All the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong. From the album On Her Majesty's Secret Service, copyright 1969, United Artists._


	43. I Loved Her First

_I'm back! Yay! Here is the first of that three-story series I was talking about. So you get even MOAR Daddy Monroe feels! (But don't worry, there will be Mommy Rosalee feels, too! I just find Monroe easier to write for because I relate more to him. And he talks like I write, so yeah...)_

_Suggestions/ Song Requests/ Reviews, etc. always appreciated I have about a week and a half before school starts again, but I'm hoping to hit 50 chapters before then... But I hope to be able to make time to write, as this has been a great exercise this summer..._

_As always, I own nothing but a big sloppy pile of feels._

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Monroe raised his voice a little louder than he intended. He was sitting at a table with Rosalee and their daughters, twenty-five year-old Sophia and twenty-two year-old Kelly. They were seated around a portable music player discussing different possibilities for the father-daughter dance for Sophia's upcoming wedding to Neil Burkhardt. Neil was her first best friend, her first crush, her first and only boyfriend, and they clearly adored each other; they always had. Neil and Juliette had already chosen "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack as their mother-son song, so Sophia decided she would sit down with her father and figure out their dance with her mother and sister's help.

"But Daddy," she whined, "it's so appropriate, isn't it?" She looked to the other women at the table, and they both nodded.

"But Honey," he whined back, "it's going to make me cry, and you know I'm an ugly crier… you're not going to want to remember me getting red-faced and snot in your hair… and think of the pictures…"

"Well, what do you suggest?" Rosalee interjected, reaching for her husband's hand. Monroe was incredibly stressed out, wanting everything to be perfect for his oldest child's wedding. Kelly started calling him "Dadzilla" because he was being such a perfectionist; even the bride herself was overwhelmed by his interrogations of everyone from the florist to the DJ. Monroe wasn't even paying for the wedding (Sophia and Neil refused to let him, but he did ask. Multiple times.), but he said he needed to make sure they weren't getting ripped off. And the girls didn't need the symbolism explained to them: a mixed-breed Wesen was marrying a future Grimm. They got it, it was a big deal; but Monroe seriously needed to take a chill pill. Monroe paused and thought, apparently going through a music catalogue in his head. He finally shrugged his shoulders.

"I… I've got nothing. Anything and everything I can think of will probably make me cry…" he sighed, and reached for his daughter's hand. His first child, the only one of the three that displayed her Blutbad roots, who was an almost exact copy of her mother with a slightly darker color palette. "Will it make you happy?" She nodded excitedly. He sighed again. "If it's what you want, it's what you'll get. But don't say I didn't warn you…" The women at the table nearly cheered: Dadzilla had been conquered! Well, on this issue anyway.

Three months later, Monroe was standing hand-in-hand with Rosalee at the door to the reception hall. Nick and Juliette were ahead of them, the wedding party was behind him. The doors opened as the Burkhardts were introduced to the crowd. Then it was their turn; they walked through the doors to camera flashes and cheers. They sat at the table with Nick, Juliette, Monroe's mother Marjorie, Nick's mother Kelly, and two empty seats for Keith and Kelly. The twins were in the bridal party, but since Sophia and Neil elected to have a sweetheart table for just the two of them, the twins were relegated to at least eating dinner with the family. Kelly Burkhardt and Marjorie had apparently been trading some pretty raucous stories; as Marjorie had put it, everyone had about 20 years to get used to the idea that Sophia and Neil were going to marry someday, so they were just going to take it for what it was: a celebration of two young people in love.

The happy couple entered, and immediately began their first dance to Queen's "You're My Best Friend". Neil called it an oldie but a goodie, and they decided it fit best; they were, after all, each other's best friend for as long as they could remember. After they finished, they sat at their little table for two, and dinner was served.

Monroe was getting nervous; he managed to keep it together most of the day (excepting, of course, his breakdown into sobbing seeing his Princess in her pretty white dress and veil for the first time), but he knew he would probably not be able to hold it together that much longer. Neil's brother Jacob delivered his best man speech, very short and sweet as Jacob never liked public speaking; Kelly delivered a heartfelt and whimsical Maid of Honor speech. At her sister's request, Kelly forewent her usual brown contacts, and her green eye and brown eye sparkled as she wove her sister's courtship to their family friend into a faerie tale poem, with some fairly obvious (at least to some of those present) symbolism. Monroe was especially impressed that she managed to tell the whole thing in iambic pentameter. Then the couple made a short speech, thanking everyone. Crap, now it's time.

Monroe rose and met his daughter on the dance floor. He bowed to her, she curtsied (they agreed it would be cute) and the music began to play.

_Look at the two of you dancing that way, _

_Lost in the moment and each other's face;_

_So much in love, you're alone in this place,_

_Like there's nobody else in the world. _

_I was enough for her not long ago;_

_I was her number one, she told me so._

_And she still means the world to me, just so you know,_

_So be careful when you hold my girl._

_Time changes everything, life must go on,_

_And I'm not gonna stand in your way._

_But I loved her first, and I held her first,_

_And a place in my heart will always be hers._

_From the first breath she breathed, _

_When she first smiled at me,_

_I knew the love of a father runs deep;_

_And I prayed that she'd find you someday_

_But it's still hard to give her away._

_I loved her first._

Monroe felt like his life was flashing before his eyes. He saw Rosalee standing next to him, squeezing his hand as they waited for the results of the pregnancy tests; he saw the nine months fly in his memory: seeing her move on the ultrasound, hearing her heartbeat, finding out she was a girl, and he held his daughter for the first time; her first laugh when she met her grandparents; her biting people for attention, including when she scared Bud so bad he climbed up on the counter; when her first word was 'Gim' while pointing at Nick (something Monroe never quite forgave his friend for); when she looked Kelly Burkhardt square in the eye and informed Mama Grimm where her little sister's name came from; when she woke him in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve to play in the snow; when she chased down and bit Johnny Thompson for calling her a half-breed; her first woge and their first run together; training for cross-country, which would eventually earn her a scholarship; their first major argument when she was a teenager, which resulted in not one but three busted clocks; when she worried that Neil wouldn't love her the way she loved him, and her joy when she found he did; taking her and the twins to help Nick train Neil; teaching her to drive (and repair) his old Bug, then surprising her with a newer model for Christmas; her graduation from high school and decision to stay in Portland and apprentice herself to her mother while earning a business degree; Neil nervously asking him for his permission to marry his daughter; everything seemed to flash before his eyes in an instant while he held her in her pretty white dress and they swayed slowly with the music. She declined dance lessons, saying she didn't want to waste money that could be spent elsewhere. Monroe didn't mind; it was hard enough to keep his composure without having to worry about stepping on her.

_How could that beautiful woman with you_

_Be the same freckle-faced kid that I knew?_

_The one that I read all those fairy tales to,_

_And tucked into bed all those nights?_

_And I knew the first time I saw you with her_

_It was only a matter of time. _

_But I loved her first, and I held her first,_

_And a place in my heart will always be hers._

_From the first breath she breathed, _

_When she first smiled at me,_

_I knew the love of a father runs deep;_

_And I prayed that she'd find you someday_

_But it's still hard to give her away._

_I loved her first._

His Princess was now a married woman. She looked so much like her mother had on their wedding day. He reached up and gingerly touched the low bun at the base of her neck, gently bringing her head closer to him. He gently kissed the top of her head, careful not to disturb her meticulously arranged bangs, the tears quietly slipped from his eyes. He wasn't sobbing, as he usually did; the tears were respectfully leaving the corners of his eyes one by one, and his nose was not running. He sniffed once or twice, but he was not the mess he usually was. His beautiful little girl was all grown up, into a beautiful, smart, strong, capable woman. So much like her mother, so much like him, but so much her own person as well.

_From the first breath she breathed, _

_When she first smiled at me,_

_I knew the love of a father runs deep;_

_Someday you might know what I'm going through_

_When a miracle smiles up at you._

_I loved her first._

The song ended, and his daughter gave him one of her bone-crushing hugs, and she kissed his cheek as applause rang through the room.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, honey."

* * *

_Song: I Loved Her First by Heartland. From the album I Loved Her First, copyright 2006, Lofton Creek Records._


	44. Dance With My Father

_Okay, so we're actually taking a slight detour in the Parent-Child Dance series to talk about... well, a Parent-Child Dance. Sort of..._

_This is, in a weird roundabout way, dedicated to Peya Luna. _

_As always, I like feedback! Yay!_

_I own nothing! Boo!_

* * *

Rosalee couldn't believe that now she was a married woman! She couldn't stop smiling, and she just wanted to kiss Monroe all night… but they had a reception to host first. And eating would be good, too. She'd been too excited to eat all day, and with Krystal Perez and the Blind Fox catering, she knew she was going to have something good when they sat down. The couple elected to do toasts first, then eat, then dancing; they also decided to forgo the parent-child dances because, well, George was not there to dance with Rosalee and Marjorie was still refusing to speak to her now daughter-in-law. Marjorie at least was speaking to her son, but Stanley wasn't talking to anybody; Monroe told her many times that he didn't say much to begin with, so this wasn't entirely unexpected.

After Nick and Audrey toasted the couple as best man and maid of honor, Monroe stood and said a few words on behalf of the couple; he strategically made no mention of parents, but kept it short so they could eat. He told Rosalee that he had been too excited to eat all day too, and they tasted a few bites from each other's plates.

Roddy's band, String Theory, was there to play the first half of the reception, including their first dance song, Kiss Me Slowly. Monroe and Rosalee's dance lessons paid off, and they nailed the salsa dance they chose to do with it, making all the times Marta the dance instructor yelled at Monroe worth it. Soon everybody was on the dance floor except for Monroe's parents. The bride and groom made it a point to speak to everybody and thank them for coming, and soon the band packed up and helped the DJ take over. Now they were able to do the party dance songs (except the Macarena. They agreed that they did NOT under any circumstance want to do the Macarena). Soon, a slow dance came on, and the couple happily swayed together; as the song ended, Rosalee felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Stanley standing next to her.

"May I cut in?" he asked his son; Monroe's jaw fell a little, but he surrendered his bride to his father's embrace. Stanley nodded his head toward the bathroom, and Monroe seemed to understand and took off in that direction. Rosalee watched him disappear as Stanley started swaying with her. "I requested this for you, Rosalee. I hope you don't mind…" Rosalee finally noticed what was playing, and it triggered a barrage of sniffles.

_Back when I was a child,_

_Before life removed all the innocence;_

_My father would lift me high _

_And dance with my mother and me and then_

_Spin me around 'til I fell asleep; _

_Then up the stairs he would carry me,_

_And I knew for sure I was loved._

_If I could get another chance,_

_Another walk, another dance with him,_

_I'd play a song that would never, ever end;_

_How I'd love, love, love to dance with my father again._

"I wanted this opportunity to apologize to you, Rosalee," Stanley began, quietly, gently. "I'm sure you are aware that traditionally the female Blutbaden are the pack leaders, so I had to go along with Margie. It doesn't make it right, but the consequences of defying her were much worse than angering my son."

"So why are we here now?" Rosalee asked quietly, wishing she were dancing with her father instead of a man who wanted her dead, who wanted to hunt her.

"Because I see the way he looks at you. I've seen that look many times before, but never on his face. That is a Blutbad male who has found his mate and is devoted to her 'til death. And the fact that he was willing to stand up to us like he did, to even threaten his own kind, his own blood, with violence speaks to the depth of his love for you, how much he wants to protect you. And I respect that. I only hope you also love him at least half as much as he loves you."

_When my mother and I would disagree,_

_To get my way, I would run from her to him._

_He'd make me laugh just to comfort me,_

_Then finally make me do just what my mama said._

_Later that night, when I was asleep,_

_He left a dollar under my sheet;_

_Never dreamed that he would be gone from me._

_If I could steal one final glance,_

_One final step, one final dance with him,_

_I'd play a song that would never, ever end,_

_'Cause I's love, love, love to dance with my father again._

Rosalee nodded. She loved Monroe deeply, but she hadn't thought about what it really meant for him to defy his parents like that to protect her; Blutbaden were very protective of their own kind, but even more protective of their mates.

"And I can assure you that if you decided to have… children… he will be a devoted father… Here comes your mother…" Rosalee looked up and the tears broke through when she saw her mother crying. Stanley released Rosalee, stepped back, and let the two women embrace in tears. Rosalee closed her eyes, and held her mother close. They swayed to the music, remembering not only George, but Freddy; the two wonderful men in their lives that were taken from them far too soon. She felt Stanley withdraw.

_Sometimes I'd listen outside her door,_

_And I'd hear how my mother cried for him._

_I pray for her even more than me._

_I pray for her even more than me._

_I know I'm praying for much too much,_

_But could you send back the only man she loved"_

_I know you don't do it usually,_

_But dear Lord, she's dying_

_To dance with my father again._

_Every night I fall asleep, and this is all I ever dream._

The song ended, and Rosalee's mom offered her a handkerchief. Rosalee wiped her eyes, and saw that Stanley was once again at his seat, as if he had never left it. Monroe entered followed by his mother; Monroe made a beeline for his wife and mother-in-law.

"What did I miss?" he asked in a concerned voice, wiping the runny mascara from under one of Rosalee's eyes. Rosalee embraced him and rested her head on his chest.

"I'll tell you later," she said quietly as he kissed her forehead.

* * *

_Song: Dance with My Father by Luther Vandross. From the album Dance with My Father, copyright 2003, J Records._


	45. Stealing Cinderella

_I promise I do have Parent-Child dances for Keith/Rosalee and Kelly/Monroe in my head, but SilverStella wanted to see Neil asking for Sophia's hand, and then I found this song. Holy crap, this song made me cry like crazy and I had to write this one..._

_Reviews/ Suggestions/ Song Requests welcome! They make me find stuff I wouldn't normally find, so I like that! Yay!_

_But I don't own anything. Still. I'm saving up to buy them, though... only a few million more dollars to go._

* * *

_I came to see her daddy_

_For a sit-down, man to man._

_It wasn't any secret_

_I'd be asking for her hand._

_I guess that's why he left me waiting_

_In the living room by myself_

_With at least a dozen pictures of her_

_Sitting on a shelf:_

_Playing Cinderella;_

_She was riding her first bike;_

_Bouncing on the bed_

_And looking for a pillow fight;_

_Running through the sprinkler_

_With a big popsicle grin;_

_Dancing with her dad,_

_Looking up at him…_

_In her eyes, I'm Prince Charming,_

_But to him, I'm just some fella_

_Riding in and stealing Cinderella._

In the 26 years he had known Monroe, Neil Burkhardt was never as terrified of him as he was right now. He called Rosalee and asked her to take Sophia out so he could talk to Monroe alone. She went quiet on the other end of the line, but agreed to do it. Now he stood shaking in their living room as Monroe made him a cup of tea. A living room he knew very well, but it seemed different somehow. For the first time in his 26 years, he noticed the details.

His eyes rested on a giant clock with three faces. He remembered when he was 16 and Sophia was 14, she and Monroe had an argument that resulted in three broken clocks; Soph threw one into another in anger and broke down in tears when she realized what she had done, so Monroe picked another one and smashed it to make her feel better. They managed to salvage parts from all three and worked together to build what they lovingly called Frankenclock over the course of a few months. Monroe said Soph was so good with the mechanics that she could probably get her own clock-making certification if she wanted. All three faces ran on different mechanisms, and were all set to different time zones: the first was set to their local, Pacific Time Zone; the middle one to Mountain Time for Montana, where Keith was living, working on a cattle ranch; and the last to Eastern Time for Virginia, where Kelly was attending Virginia Tech. Neil examined the patchwork appearance of the clock, as the three types of wood were patterned together, and the little door containing the cuckoo that sounded every hour. It was an odd little cuckoo, that made a much lower sound than Neil was used to; Rosalee told Nick and Juliette in a whisper that she didn't think Neil would hear that the clock Monroe chose to smash was one he told her was his favorite many years ago when they were dating, mainly for the cuckoo. But his new favorite clock was the big patchwork he designed and created with his daughter with three faces, one for each of his children, with the baritone cuckoo.

_I leaned in towards those pictures_

_To get a better look at one,_

_When I heard a voice behind me say,_

_"Now ain't she something, son?"_

_I said, "Yes, she's quite a woman",_

_And he just stared at me;_

_Then I realized that in his eyes, _

_She would always be_

_Playing Cinderella;_

_Riding her first bike;_

_Bouncing on the bed_

_And looking for a pillow fight;_

_Running through the sprinkler_

_With a big popsicle grin;_

_Dancing with her dad,_

_Looking up at him…_

_In her eyes, I'm Prince Charming,_

_But to him, I'm just some fella_

_Riding in and stealing Cinderella._

Underneath Frankenclock was a small army of photographs of various sizes, framed and unframed. Monroe and Rosalee's wedding portrait, pictures from the hospital of newborn Sophia and the twins; various photos of sporting events that complimented the trophy case, most of them bearing Sophia's name; Keith and Kelly were a little more artistic, like their parents, than athletic.

His eyes stopped on one framed photo in particular, set a little back. The photo had to be about 20 years old, and featured Monroe stretched out on the couch, looking like he was sleeping. On his chest, under a quilt, a small girl was curled up. Neil could tell by the dark hair that it was indeed Sophia. He remembered that she was rather tiny as a kid, but hit a monster growth spurt in middle school. There were Christmas decorations around them, but not as many as usual, so the twins must have been really little. Neil gingerly picked up the picture and held it in his hands. It was so odd, how beautiful this picture was to him. He loved Sophia so much, but looking at that picture he wondered if he would ever be able to love her as much as her father did.

_Oh he slapped me on the shoulder,_

_Then he called her in the room._

_When she threw her arms around him,_

_That's when I could see it, too._

_She was playing Cinderella;_

_Riding her first bike;_

_Bouncing on the bed_

_And looking for a pillow fight;_

_Running through the sprinkler_

_With a big popsicle grin;_

_Dancing with her dad,_

_Looking up at him…_

Neil was so engrossed in the photo that he didn't hear Monroe enter the room until the man stood beside him and offered him a mug. Neil nodded his thanks, and the two men sat on the couch, Neil still holding the picture of Monroe and Sophia. Neil didn't know where to start. Thankfully, Monroe did.

"So today is the day, isn't it?" he asked solemnly and leaned forward.

"Umm… what?" Neil was a little taken aback.

"Today is the day you come and ask me for my permission to marry Sophia, right? Or am I misreading the entire situation?" Neil shook his head.

"No, that's… that's what I'm here for. How did you know?"

"Well, you've got a vice grip on a photo of her, and you are more tense around me than I've ever seen you. Even when we do your Grimm training, you never get this on edge. Do you think I'm going to bite you for wanting to marry my daughter or something?" Neil put the photo down, and Monroe picked it up and smiled. "I remember this. She was five. It was Christmas Eve, she woke me up about 3 in the morning to play in the snow. I remember how surprised she was when I told her I loved her, her mother, and the twins more than Halloween and Christmas combined. Blew her little mind." He looked at Neil, suddenly very serious. "Now, I know that in the unwritten book of Dad Law that I am supposed to make you as uncomfortable and nervous as possible with veiled threats and stuff like that… but I've watched the two of you grow up together. We all knew this was coming. Just keep treating her right. I know you know what happens to people who don't treat my family right, yes?" Neil nodded. Monroe smiled and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Do you have a ring yet?"

"Umm... no. I was going to ask you about that..." Monroe stood, and beckoned his future son-in-law to follow him.

"I think we can find her something from our family stuff upstairs. That's where Rosalee's ring came from. Do you want to take a look?" Neil nodded and followed Monroe up the stairs. Yeah, that wasn't so hard after all.

_If he gives me a hard time,_

_I can't blame the fella;_

_I'm the one who's stealing Cinderella._

* * *

_Song: Stealing Cinderella by Chuck Wicks. From the album Starting Now, copyright 2007, RCA Nashville._


	46. Every Story is a Love Story

_I am again digressing with my digression. Sorry. SilverStella just had some mad-awesome and inspiring ideas; she wanted to see Nick tell Sophia the story of her parents' courtship, and adorableness and shmoop and feels ensued. This is why I ask for suggestions and song requests, guys! If you want to see it, ask for it! I aim to please! It also gives me time to get a better handle on my own ideas so I don't run them off all half-assed haha._

_Will somebody please show my work to the producers of Grimm so they can hire me? PLEASE? Haha still own nothing. BUT I got my first jar of pumpkin butter at the Farmer's Market today! *SQUEE* Pumpkin Flavored Everything is coming! YAY!_

* * *

_Every story, tale, or memoir,_

_Every saga or romance;_

_Whether true or fabricated,_

_Whether planned or happenstance;_

_Whether sweeping through the ages,_

_Casting centuries aside;_

_Or a hurried brief recital,_

_Just a thirty minute ride;_

_Whether bright or melancholy,_

_Rough and ready, finely spun;_

_Whether with a thousand players_

_Or a lonely cast of one;_

_Every story, new or ancient,_

_Bagatelle or work of art:_

_All are tales of human failing;_

_All are tales of love at heart._

_This is the story _

_Of a love that flourished_

_In a time of hate._

It was a cold, cloudy Thursday, the last day in January when Juliette got a panicked call from Monroe; they weren't sure how soon Rosalee's Entzünden would kick back in after Sophia's birth, but since the little girl was going to be 3 in a few months, the Burkhardts were on standby. Monroe breathlessly dropped his still-groggy daughter off after her nap, apologizing profusely, before rushing back home to take care of his wife. Nick came home to three children under the age of 5 and explicit instructions to not bother Monroe and Rosalee until given the okay.

The Burkhardts fed the children dinner, and then let Sophia pick a movie to watch. The little girl went into her duffel bag (Nick could tell Monroe was in a hurry because most of her things were thrown in helter-skelter as opposed to his normal precision packing) and pulled out a copy of _Balto_.

"Daddy movie," she said brightly as she handed the case to Juliette, who shrugged at Nick. During the movie, it became clear to the Burkhardts that Sophia identified many of the characters as people she knew: wolf-dog Balto was Monroe (hence why she called it Daddy Movie), his love interest, Jenna the red Husky, was Rosalee; Rosy (the little girl and Jenna's owner) was Juliette; Boris the goose was Nick; Muk and Luk the polar bears were Neil and Jacob; and when the white wolf appeared on the screen, she pointed at it and said simply "Me". Nick hated to admit it, but the little girl was quite perceptive; he recognized a lot of Monroe and Rosalee in the animated canines, and puzzled at how she seemed to readily acknowledge the bedridden redhead was Auntie Juliette… this would be the first piece of evidence in Nick's mind that Sophia was somehow psychic. He would never tell her parents, but she always seemed to just _know_ things (it would become a lot more obvious as she got older, when she seemed to always know what her siblings and Neil were doing at any given moment).

Soon the movie was over, and it was time to get the kids ready for bed. Neil and Jacob were out like lights, but soon Sophia padded into Nick and Juliette's room and demanded a "stowwy". Juliette looked at Nick; her shift started before his, so he had to tell her one. He didn't want to risk waking the boys to get a book, so he took the little girl downstairs and sat on the couch.

"Stowwy?" she asked again, still appearing to be wide awake. Nick racked his brain: he didn't know stories like Monroe did, and most of his stories as a cop and as a Grimm would probably scare her… then he had an idea.

"Once upon a time," he began slowly, "there was a Wolf. The Wolf lived in his… den… all alone in the woods. One day a detective named… Sherlock Holmes… came and found the Wolf. He thought the Wolf did something very bad, but he was wrong and Sherlock made the Wolf help him find out who did the bad thing. The Wolf didn't want to help Sherlock, but Sherlock kept asking for help. Eventually Sherlock and the Wolf became friends. It was dangerous for the Wolf, but he liked having a friend and having adventures.

"One day, Sherlock was investigating a crime when he met a beautiful Fox. The Fox was very sad and very scared. Sherlock asked the Wolf to come help make the Fox feel safe. There was a big fight, and the Fox saved the Wolf's life, and they became friends, too. The Wolf thought the Fox was the prettiest and smartest Fox he had ever met; the Fox thought the Wolf was funny and smart. The Wolf fell in love with the Fox, but didn't think the Fox could love him; the Fox did love the Wolf, but she was scared he would hurt her.

"One day, the Wolf and the Fox had a picnic. The Fox kissed the Wolf, but it turned out she was very sick and wasn't in control. She was so sick that she attacked Sherlock with a pair of scissors. The Wolf was very sad she was sick, but made her medicine to make her better. The Wolf was sad because he thought she only kissed him because she was sick.

"Then the Fox had to go away for a while, and the Wolf was very sad while she was gone. He tried not to think about her and spent his time helping Sherlock, but he missed her so much. What he didn't know, though, was that the Fox missed him, too, and she loved him. When she came home, the Fox showed the Wolf how much she loved him with True Love's Kiss, and they started dating. They continued to help Sherlock, but fell more and more in love each day. The Wolf even asked the Fox to move into his den with him so they could be together. After she moved in, they had a great big party, and the Wolf asked the Fox to marry him and love him forever. She agreed, even though they were different, because she loved him.

"Many people tried to make them stop loving each other, but it only made them love each other more. The Wolf's Mommy and Daddy even tried to eat the Fox, but the Wolf fought them and they got scared and ran away. One beautiful, sunny day, the Wolf and the Fox got married with Sherlock as the best man. They were worried about the Wolf's Mommy and Daddy, but the Wolf's Daddy decided that the Wolf and the Fox loved each other enough, and he promised to stop being mean.

"The Wolf and the Fox loved each other more and more each day, and soon found out that they were going to have a baby. The Wolf was very protective of the Fox as they got everything ready, and they had a little girl Pup. They both loved the little Pup, but the Wolf was especially proud to be a Daddy; he loved the little Pup so much, he thought he was going to explode from being so happy. The Wolf's Mommy also loved the Pup so much she stopped being mean to the Fox, and they were all happy. The Wolf and the Fox lived happily ever after with their Pup, and they all helped Sherlock solve crimes forever and ever. The end."

Nick looked down, and saw Sophia fighting to keep her eyes open and losing terribly. He gently scooped her up and carried her back upstairs.

"Uncle Nick?" she said quietly as he tucked her in.

"Yeah?"

"I like stowwy but…"

"But what, Soph?"

"But you not Sher-wok Homes. Sher-wok smarter den you…" the child drifted off to sleep, but Nick couldn't help chuckling. Damn, this kid was entirely too smart for him already.

* * *

_Song: Every Story is a Love Story from Elton John and Tim Rice's Aida. From the Original Broadway Cast Recording, copyright 1999._


	47. Alright For Now

_So the last couple days have been a little stressful for me, getting into gear for the new school year. I'm so tired, I don't even care that that rhymed (up in here). _

_Anyway, SilverStella, again with the inspiration, wanting to see Monroe holding Sophia for the first time through Rosalee's eyes. I'm sorry it's so short, but hopefully gets everything across! _

_As always, reviews, suggestions, song ideas, etc. always awesome! Still hoping to hit 50 chapters by a week from today..._

_As always, I own nothing but a big pile of textbooks..._

* * *

Rosalee was drifting out of a dream; her father and Freddy congratulated her on the birth of her daughter, and reminded her that they would help her as much as they could from the other realm. Slowly she became aware that she was not in her bed at home, all of the muscles below her waist hurt, and she heard a voice. Monroe. She heard his footsteps; he was pacing, but it was slow, meandering. His pacing was usually purposeful, the better to help him expend excess nervous energy. He was alternating between speaking and singing. Rosalee slowly opened her eyes; they were in the hospital room, and the sun was setting through the window. Monroe stood, paused in his travels, in the golden glow looking into a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle. His cheeks shone with tears, but he was smiling. He was unaware Rosalee was awake, so enthralled by his little girl. Their little girl. As Rosalee watched, he took the tiny creature over to the window and began to sing so quietly it could have been the wind.

_Goodnight baby, sleep tight my love;_

_May God watch over you from above._

_Tomorrow I'm working, what would I do?_

_I'd be lost and lonely if not for you._

_So close your eyes; we're alright for now._

_I've spent my life travelling, spent my life free;_

_I could not repay all you've done for me. _

_So sleep tight, baby, unfurrow your brow,_

_And know I love you; we're alright for now._

_We're alright for now. _

It was such a sweet, simple song, Rosalee couldn't help a few tears escaping her eyes as well. She loved when Monroe sang, and was secretly hoping he'd sing more when the baby came; it looked like her hope would be realized. She couldn't help sniffling. Monroe's head snapped up, as if he was being rudely awakened from a hypnotic state. He hastily wiped his eyes, careful not to jostle the bundle too much, and walked over to his wife's bed.

"Hey, beautiful… did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet…"

"No, but I'm glad I woke up when I did." She smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed. "How long was I out?"

"Umm… probably a good couple hours. I'm not totally sure."

"Were you singing the whole time?" He smiled shyly.

"No… some of that time was spent talking to her. I think she likes me…"

"Well, I would hope so! What's not to love?" She reached for their child, who started to fuss at being taken from the security of her father's embrace. "See? She doesn't even want to eat! She's going to be such a Daddy's Girl, isn't she?"

Monroe shrugged his shoulders, looking punch-drunk in love with the two gorgeous females before him. He was a husband. He was a daddy. He had a family. He gingerly pulled himself up on the bed and snuggled next to his wife, their little one between them. He gently wrapped his arm around them, and gently kissed Rosalee's forehead, and in that moment, Rosalee fell in love with him all over again.

* * *

_Song: Alright For Now by Tom Petty. From the album Full Moon Fever, copyright 1989, MCA Records_


	48. Nobody Does It Better

_So this has been a crazy week, getting ready for school Tuesday. And thanks to the stress, I wanted to return to one of my more popular threads, a post-postscript, if you will... _

_That's right, we're bringing Marina and Raymond back! YAY! I really do like this lifetime, so I think I will revisit them some more, but I think this may be the last Bond theme I use for them..._

_Reviews, suggestions, song ideas always welcome. I want to have 50 by Monday night, so I'll see what I can come up with..._

_As always, I own nothing._

* * *

_Nobody does it better;_

_Makes me feel sad for the rest._

_Nobody does it half as good as you;_

_Baby, you're the best._

_I wasn't lookin', but somehow you found me._

_I tried to hide from your love light,_

_But like Heaven above me, the spy who loved me_

_Is keeping my secrets safe tonight._

**London, England, September 1944**

Marina fidgeted in the borrowed white dress; it turned out one of the other women who worked as a code-breaker had gotten married recently, and she was roughly the same size; they swapped the dress for some tomatoes from Raymond and Marina's Victory Garden. Marina wasn't sure what it was, but Raymond, the man she would be marrying in less than an hour, was a wonder with plants. He had taken their tiny little flower bed and, for the last two summers, created a flourishing garden that produced more than the two of them could eat on their own; his seemingly miraculous green thumb allowed them to use what was left to barter amid the rationing, including securing the ingredients to make a small, simple wedding cake.

Marina ran her fingers through her hair, and looked again in the mirror. The dress seemed awkwardly long trailing behind her, but then she usually wore trousers to work and knee-length skirts and dresses on days off. This was, as people kept reminding her, a special occasion. According to the ladies helping her, though, this would be a much smaller, quieter affair than she was used to back in Poland and Russia, and not just because it was a war. Apparently these English didn't realize that weddings were multi-day affairs full of food, drink, and raucous song… oh well, it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was that she would marry the handsome, brave Englishman who saved her life and brought her here. Yes, she saved his life as well, rescuing him from his downed plane in the woods, but he carried her for miles to safety as she bled from a wound in her stomach, talking to her to keep her conscious. Even after she tearfully told him the medic told her she would never have children, he argued with his superiors for permission to bring her back with him and secure her a job while she argued with the Russians that she had to go with him because they were (according to forged papers they were carrying) already married. One of the younger Russian officers, Nikolay, assured his superiors that the papers were genuine and that separating husband from wife after such a huge trauma would be savage and inhuman. Their coworkers in England thought that spoke volumes about their depth of character and how deeply they must have felt something for each other.

Marina reached into the little pouch she carried and pulled out the ring. It was the same ring Raymond had worn while they were trying to escape to Russia, her father's. And now, instead of it being a costume, it would be a reality. She said a quick prayer for her parents and her Uncle Yakov, and the door opened. An usher beckoned her; It was time.

Marina walked slowly into the small chapel; some of their coworkers were there, but all she saw was him, standing in his Royal Air Force officer's uniform. He looked so attractive in the blue-grey... He smiled brightly as she approached, and she knew he saw no one but her, just as she saw no one but him. They exchanged vows, and Raymond slid the ring she used onto her left ring finger, the ring that belonged to Aunt Olga, Yakov's wife. She put his ring on for him as well, and they shared a kiss. Marina could not remember being this happy before she met Raymond, and hopefully this was only the beginning.

_And nobody does it better,_

_Though sometimes I wish someone could._

_Nobody does it quite the way you do;_

_Why'd you have to be so good?_

_The way that you hold me whenever you hold me;_

_There's some kind of magic inside you_

_That keeps me from runnin' but just keep it comin'._

_How'd you learn to do the things you do?_

**May, 1945**

Raymond Calhoun collapsed backward onto the bed, pulling his wife Marina down with him; she snuggled next to him, drawing lazy, winding patterns on his chest. The War officially ended in Europe on Tuesday, and they were staying in all weekend making love, celebrating. It would be an uphill battle for Britain to rebuild, but the Calhouns didn't care right now. All that mattered was that they had each other and the War was over; they wouldn't have to desperately worry that they would lose the other to falling bombs or enemy spies, and they could be a normal married couple. Marina had been offered a secretarial position at the base where Raymond would continue as a training officer. They had kept each other safe, just as they had promised each other from their first meeting.

Raymond admired his wife's beautiful body, and he ran his hand over her stomach, lingering on the scar where a German bayonet had been stabbed in, and quickly pulled out and turned upon its owner. He couldn't help but notice that, despite the rationing, his wife seemed to be filling out a little; she looked a little plumper and healthier than she had in past months, and her breasts seemed fuller, heavier. Come to think of it, while she was usually very responsive to him, each touch today seemed to cause her a cascade of pleasure…

"My dear… Lapushka…" he began, not quite sure how to ask her as she snuggled up closer to him, rubbing one beautiful leg against his, "when we were in Russia, what exactly did the medic say about your injuries?" Marina smiled at him, positively glowing.

"I was waiting for the right time to tell you, but I know you are smart and would figure it out…" she reached up and pulled her face to his, so they were nose to nose. "The medic was wrong. We are going to have a family after all!"

"Really? I'm going to be a father?" She nodded and smiled. Raymond gently pulled her on top of him and started kissing wherever he could reach. She kissed him back, and seemed to glow even brighter. His loins stirred once again, seemingly stronger for the knowledge that, against the odds, he had managed to mark her and make her his; she slid onto him, feeling his protection and his virility all around her. Both of them were bursting with joy; the English Fox and the Russian Wolf were going to have a little one in a world free from the Nazi Menace.

_Nobody does it better;_

_Makes me feel sad for the rest._

_Nobody does it half as good as you;_

_Baby, baby, darling, you're the best._

* * *

_Song: Nobody Does It Better by Carly Simon. From the album The Spy Who Loved Me, copyright 1977, Elektra Records. _


	49. The Cowboy in Me

_So I had an idea for a story that fits into this universe that I've been hinting at in a few fics, but I couldn't find a song for it. So, I created an extension fic, called _**Kidnapped**_ and the first 3 chapters are posted. It takes place within this universe, but without the music. Let me know how you like it!_

_And now we shall find out how Keith ended up on a ranch in Montana..._

_As always, I like feedback. It makes me happy. It makes me want to write more, or at least get my ideas out if I've been sitting on them too long trying to make the square peg fit in the round hole..._

_Still own nothing._

* * *

_I don't know why I act the way I do,_

_Like I ain't got a single thing to lose._

_Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy;_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in me._

_I got a life that most would love to have,_

_But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad_

_At where this road I'm heading down might lead;_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in me._

_The urge to run, the restlessness,_

_The heart of stone I sometimes get;_

_The things I've done for foolish pride;_

_To me, that's never satisfied_

_The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see;_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in me._

It all started with a horseback riding lesson on vacation when the twins were 7. Monroe and Rosalee had decided that the kids were old enough to attempt a cross-country road trip to see Monroe's parents, and they stopped at a ranch in Wyoming for a few days. The twins begged for a horseback riding lesson, which Sophia refused because she was deathly afraid of horses. Monroe instead took his eldest fishing while Rosalee, Keith, and Kelly had a lesson. The horses were very skittish around Rosalee, but soon she sat stiffly in a saddle holding on for dear life, wondering if Sophia was onto something. Kelly wasn't faring much better, almost getting stepped on by the horse she was trying to mount, a mare named Cookie. Keith, on the other hand, was seated neatly and comfortably astride a large stallion named Davy like it was the most natural thing in the world. He even dismounted and offered to ride Cookie. As soon as Kelly attempted to mount Davy, he bolted, while Keith was now once again seated on a saddle as if he had been there since birth. Eventually Kelly was saddled up on Cookie, but the mare refused to follow any commands. Davy seemed to almost instinctively know what Keith wanted him to do. The instructor, a kind, blonde teenage girl named Emma, assured Rosalee that some people just communicate better with horses. Rosalee didn't think she had ever seen her son as confident as he was on that horse.

_The urge to run, the restlessness,_

_The heart of stone I sometimes get;_

_The things I've done for foolish pride;_

_To me, that's never satisfied_

_The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see;_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in me._

From then on, it was an obsession. Keith was signed up for riding lessons as soon as they got home, and, as they say, never looked back. When the twins earned their driver's licenses, Monroe asked what kind of cars they wanted. He bought Sophia a brand new VW Bug when she got her license, so it was only fair; Keith asked if he could have a horse instead. The twins and their father had a very intense weekend of negotiations, researching, and comparing costs, resulting in the promise of a new Prius for Kelly (plus a new amp for her guitar), and a used Jeep and a horse (plus the funds to keep it at a stable for a few years) for Keith. Neither twin felt slighted by the deal. Father and son researched together to find the right stable, and then set out to find a horse. Keith said he found the love of his life in an Appaloosa mare called Pepper, a stock horse, and soon he learned the tricks and skills that would lead him to the ranch in Montana... and to Ashton.

_Girl, I know there's times you must have thought_

_There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed;_

_But you set your mind to see this love on through…_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in you._

_We ride and never worry about the fall;_

_I guess that's just the cowboy in us all._

* * *

_Song: The Cowboy in Me by Tim McGraw. From the album Set This Circus Down, copyright 2001, Curb Records._


	50. Here for You

_Well, I did it! I wrote 50 chapters by the start of the school year. Between this and my other stories (_Heat_, _Fantasy Interrupted_, _Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno_, and _Kidnapped_), I have written almost 92,000 words this summer. All about Monroe and Rosalee. WOW. Obsessed much? I will continue to update _M&RMaP_ and this as much as I can now that I'm getting back to work, and I will try to have _Kidnapped_ finished by October. Thank all of my lovely, faithful readers for your encouragement and suggestions!_

_Speaking of which, if you ask, I will keep writing! Bug me, make me write more stuff! Remind me it's a stress-reliever! Let me fill the void in your lives until October 25th (in the US, anyway), the season 3 première! Suggestions, comments, stuff you want to see, songs you think I should write a story around..._

_I own nothing, as usual..._

* * *

_When your summer days come tumbling down_

_And you find yourself alone,_

_Then you can come back and be with me._

_Just close your eyes, and I'll be there;_

_Listen to the sound of this old heart beating for you._

_Yes, I'd miss you, but I never want to hold you down._

_You might say I'm here for you._

Monroe pulled Rosalee's minivan behind Kelly's Prius and looked up at the back of the residence hall. His youngest daughter was moving in for her freshman year of college. He couldn't believe that, out of all the schools that had accepted her, she chose Virginia Tech. Granted, she loved the campus, the town of Blacksburg, and the prestige of going to such a well-known school on a partial scholarship... she wanted to be a history teacher, and had a particular fascination for the Civil War, so proximity to the battlefields may have also factored in… But it still seemed strange to Monroe. Keith decided not to go to college, instead going out to Montana with his horse Pepper to become a riding instructor. Sophia was entering her senior year at Portland State, pursuing a business degree with a minor in chemistry. Sophia made no secret of her desire to eventually take over the Spice Shop, and apprenticed herself to her mother.

Rosalee nudged Monroe, and his thoughts scattered. He opened the door and started unloading the van, finding Kelly had already unloaded her Prius and was pulling it into a parking spot. She was a precision packer, like her father, and there weren't many boxes, but they were all tightly packed, clearly labeled, and heavy. Kelly ran in to get her keys, leaving her parents to stand with her pile of boxes.

"And now our youngest is all grown up, too." Monroe observed. Rosalee rolled her eyes.

"She's only the youngest by 12 minutes. And don't forget, our oldest daughter is still living at home."

"I know, but it'll be strange not having either of the twins at home…" Monroe put his arm around his wife as Kelly came bounding out the door with a brand new lanyard swinging from her neck with her ID and room key hanging from it. She smiled brightly at her parents.

"Room 1206, first floor." She hoisted a box onto her shoulder and damn near skipped in the door. Rosalee laughed, reassuring her husband.

"I think she'll be okay."

_When winter comes to your new home,_

_And the snowflakes are falling down,_

_Then you can come back and be with me._

_Just close your eyes, and I'll be there;_

_Listen to the sound of this old heart beating for you._

_Yes, I'd miss you, but I never want to hold you down._

_You might say I'm here for you._

Kelly stared at the pregnancy test with tears in her eyes. Her parents warned her when she was 15. She knew about Entzünden… how could she have been so stupid as not protect herself?

Her phone rang. It was her mother. Kelly took a deep breath in and answered. The little video chat screen popped up.

"Hi, honey!" Rosalee began brightly. "Soph suggested I give you a call… Oh my god, are you okay?"

Damn her sister's weird abilities. But Kelly didn't have time to curse her sister too much, because she did want to talk to her mom. Unfortunately, the sobs beat the words out of her mouth.

"Mom, I think I'm pregnant…" she cried into the phone. There was quiet on the other end, as Rosalee's mouth straightened into a line. Rosalee looked disappointed, which made Kelly feel worse.

"So you had your first Entzünden? Are you at a clinic or doctor's office? Or did you get a stick test?"

"I got the sticks… Mom, it says I'm pregnant, what do I do?"

"Honey, just concentrate on the sound of my voice." This was a little trick both Monroe and Rosalee would use on their children to calm them down when they were scared or wound up to get them to breathe. "Just listen to my voice, honey, take a deep breath in… hold it… deep breath out…

"Feel better, honey?" Kelly nodded. "Did you treat the sticks or just use them straight out of the box?"

"Treat them?"

"The Kehrseite sticks don't take Wesen hormones into account, so unless you treat them, you're always going to get a false positive. You're going to have to find a Wesen-friendly clinic and get a test there, because I don't know if you'll have access to everything you need to treat the sticks… what makes you think you're pregnant?"

"I've been nauseous all week, and I just hurt all over…" Rosalee shook her head.

"I don't think you're pregnant, at least not with an Entzünden baby. I didn't even know I was pregnant with you and Keith until I went for my yearly exam…"

"But you had really bad sickness with Soph…"

"Because it was outside of Entzünden. Because of the mixing of blood, Fuchsbau, Blutbad, and Kehrseite, you can get pregnant outside of Entzünden. Go to a clinic, get confirmation, but I think you're coming down with a late-season flu. And please, please get yourself a prescription for a contraceptive. Your father and I are entirely too young to be grandparents just yet, okay?" Kelly sniffled, but nodded.

"Okay, Mom. I love you. And tell Soph I said hi."

_In the spring, protective arms surrounding you;_

_In the fall, we let you go your way._

_Happiness, I know, will always find you,_

_And when it does, I hope that it will stay._

_Yes, I miss you, but I never want to hold you down._

_You might say I'm here for you._

The summer was again over, and the Monroe and Rosalee were driving to Virginia to help Kelly move in again. Her pregnancy scare had been just that, a scare, and Rosalee and Sophia had shown her how to mix simple yet effective contraceptives from ingredients that would be readily available.

Kelly's tightly packed Prius and Rosalee's minivan pulled up to a small house off the main street. Kelly and her parents decided that it would be a good idea to live in Virginia year-round now that she had the option of living off campus to start her sophomore year; it would allow her to pay in-state tuition to cover what her scholarship didn't. While Kelly felt a little strange leaving her parents and siblings, she loved Virginia and wanted to start a life here.

"So you're gonna be okay, kiddo?" Monroe asked his youngest child after they had loaded her boxes onto the porch. "When are your friends moving in?"

"I think Lydia is coming later tonight, and then Izzy and Taylor are coming tomorrow…" Monroe nodded, and gave her a big hug, looking his girl over. Her blonde pixie cut was matted with sweat, and she was wearing those awful brown contacts to cover up the fact that one of her eyes was green and the other was brown. He silently hoped that one day she would embrace her unique eyes; how could she not see the beauty in her being different?

Kelly likewise looked at her father. His dark hair was starting to streak gray, and his maroon and orange Virginia Tech Dad tee shirt was soaked with sweat. She always felt like the odd kid out, as Sophia looked just like their mother and Keith greatly resembled their father; meanwhile she was the random milkman's kid with blonde hair and mismatched eyes. If she didn't have a twin (and didn't know her mother at all) she would suspect she had a different father all together.

"So we'll see you at Christmas, then?" Monroe asked, and Kelly nodded.

"Yeah. Where are you stopping tonight?"

"Your mother wants to see Louisville, Kentucky. It's about a six hour drive, so we should get going…"

Kelly hugged her father once more with all her strength. She was going to miss him so much…

"Hey, this may be your home now, but you'll always have a place back in Portland. And you know how to get ahold of us or Soph if anything happens." Kelly nodded, burrowing further into her father's shoulder.

Rosalee stepped out of the door, and watched her youngest child hugging her husband as he patted her back. Kelly released her father and turned to her mother. Rosalee kissed her cheek.

"Be safe, do well, and we'll see you at Christmas, okay?" Kelly nodded. "You'll be fine, honey."

Kelly stood on the porch and waved her parents goodbye. When they were out of sight, she walked into her new home. It was good to be back in Virginia, but first, she needed a shower.

_Yes, I miss you, but I never want to hold you down._

_You might say I'm here for you._

_I'll always be here for you._

* * *

_Song: Here for You by Neil Young. From the album Prairie Wind, copyright 2005, Reprise Records._


	51. Wolves

_Hi, everybody! I'm back with the _Playlist_ after a short detour with my story _Kidnapped. _Of everything I've written, if the producers of the show came to ask for the rights to a story, that is the one I hope they'd pick... (other than the smut, of course, but they can only show so much on cable haha)._

_As always, I like feedback, reviews, suggestions for songs or AU or past lives. I'm working again, but I still like to give myself time to write, especially between now and the première!_

_I own nothing of interest..._

* * *

_ Mama, there's wolves in the house._

_Mama, they won't let me out._

_Mama, they're mating at night._

_Mama, they won't make nice._

Monroe and Nick walk through the autumn woods to what they have dubbed the Training Center. Behind them, trying to keep up, are eleven-year-old Neil and eight-year-old Sophia. Nick carries a regular crossbow and a Doppelarmbrust (the double crossbow) with a pack of bolts; Monroe carries a pair of Kanabo and a large bag. The kids keep stealing glances at each other, but do not say a word. They have been hearing stories since their childhood about what their parents have done, acting as enforcers, keeping the peace among the Wesen and the Kehrseite in Portland and beyond.

Sophia has been doing strange exercises with her father since she was about three, building up her reflexes, balance, speed. She isn't sure how she does it, but she has seemingly always been able to call forth her fangs when she is scared or angry. She knows her first full woge is coming, and she knows it will be soon. She's feels differently today, so today may be the day.

Neil can't yet See as his father can, and he often feels left out, especially because Sophia and the twins seem to be able to See. He can only See if he's supposed to, which frustrates him. One of his first vivid memories is of Aunt Rosalee becoming a fox, and letting him and his little brother Jacob pet the soft red and white fur on her cheeks. Uncle Monroe refused to woge, saying they weren't ready for it yet. Neil gets a sinking feeling that today will be the day he finally sees Monroe's true form. Without thinking, he reaches out and brushes Sophia's hand with his; she smiles shyly, and he can tell she's nervous, too.

_They're pacing and glowing bright,_

_Their faces all snowy and white._

_Bury their paws in the stone,_

_Make for my heart as their home._

_Blazing with light_

_Is the whitest and the tallest_

_And the biggest one;_

_She's muscled and fine when she runs._

The group reaches the clearing, and the fathers deposit their goods on a tree stump. Monroe opens his bag and starts pulling out fruit: watermelons, apples, peaches, plums, and bananas. Nick turns to the kids, tapping the end of the Kanabo against the ground.

"Neil… Soph… we've decided to officially start your training today. We feel that both of you are old enough, and you will both get dragged into this sooner or later, so we might as well all be prepared. Now, Soph, until you have your first woge, this will be mostly about weapons for you; Neil, for you this will be about how to deal with your Sight, how to strategize on your feet, and how to use the weapons. But first, Monroe has something to show you."

Monroe glances at his daughter before stepping up to Neil. The man is gigantic, towering almost two and a half feet over the eleven-year-old and nearly a full three feet over Sophia.

"Neil, I want you to remember it's just me, okay?" Neil nods, and he feels Sophia's hand in his; she knows what her father's woge looks like, and she seems to silently be offering him her protection. Monroe breathes in, and shifts. His kind brown eyes become red, and his features become sharper, more angular. Large fangs jut from his mouth, claws sprout from his fingers, and fur sprouts in some places. Neil stumbles back a step, but remains standing. Monroe shifts back, and Sophia slips her hand out of his. Neil takes a few breaths in, and nods his head.

"Okay." Monroe nods as well.

"Okay. It helps that you've seen Rosalee woge already, too. She's a lot prettier than I am. However, I bet this one," he pointed to his daughter, "is going to have a gorgeous woge." Sophia smiles shyly at the ground as the tips of her ears turn red. Her father was always embarrassing her with compliments because she looks so much like her mother, but she feels her little sister Kelly is so much prettier. Kelly has blonde hair, so she looks different from the rest of the family, but she has pretty eyes, one light brown with gold flecks and the other a bright, clear emerald green.

_They're tearing up holes in the house._

_They're tearing their claws to the ground._

_They're staring with blood in their mouths._

_Mama, they won't let me out._

_They tumble and fight,_

_And they're beautiful_

_On the hilltops at night._

_They are beautiful._

"Okay!" Nick brings Sophia out of her embarrassed silence by handing her one of the Kanabo. It is nearly as tall as she. Nick hands the other to Neil. "First, some batting practice!" The kids both smile. They love playing baseball together, and these things are very much like their bats, but heavier.

"Careful with the spikes, though." Monroe warns before tossing an apple underhand at Neil. Neil swings, and connects with the apple. The apple is obliterated, chunks flying everywhere. The Grimmling smiles wider as Sophia laughs. Monroe throws a peach at her, but she can't seem to swing the bat properly; it's a little too long for her. Neil throws the peach back to Monroe while reminding Sophia to choke up on the bat. She moves her hands cautiously toward the spikes, and practices her swing. This looks like it will work better. Monroe tosses the peach once more, and this time Sophia manages to hit her mark, splattering her father with juice as he laughs. As Monroe is tossing the smaller fruit, Nick is hanging the watermelons up like piñatas, watching as the kids laugh as they spray each other with bits of fruit. They both seem to be taking to this very naturally; however, he reminds himself, they have the benefit of knowledge, something he never had. They've been aware of this world since they were born… maybe not the great extent of it, but they know it exists and one day they will join it.

When the kids are done hitting the smaller fruit (and pulling an impaled banana off Neil's Kanabo), Monroe leads them over to the hanging watermelons.

"So now that you've got the basic baseball swing down, now try an overhead swing. Remember to follow through, and watch your legs." Neil stands in front of his watermelon while Sophia stands to the side with the Kanabo balanced on her shoulder. Her father can't help notice how natural she looks; she must have been a warrior in a past life, too. Neil takes a big swing and misses the watermelon as Sophia laughs hysterically. He tries again, with the same result, and Sophia leans on the Kanabo for support. He tries a few more times and Sophia is practically rolling on the ground.

"Well let's see how you do, Runt." Neil grumbles, his face burning red. Sophia stops laughing, and sits up quickly.

"What did you call me?" she asks quietly, approaching the Grimm-in-training as her eyes flash red.

"You heard me. Like you're going to do any better. You probably won't even be able to reach it."

Sophia feels her heart racing and her eyes feel like they're on fire. Neil KNOWS she hates being called Runt. The only thing that would make her more angry is being called a Half-Breed, and Neil saw what happened when Johnny Thompson called her Half-Breed last year.

"So what are you gonna do about it then, Runt?" Neil was actually kind of enjoying antagonizing her. Nick and Monroe shot each other worried glances as Sophia stands on her toes, putting her almost eye-to-eye with the boy.

"I AM NOT A RUNT! I AM AN ALPHA!" Sophia screams in his face, and suddenly her face feels like it's on fire as thousands of needles shoot through her skin. Her teeth become fangs, and claws shoot out of her fingers, causing her to drop the Kanabo, slicing her leg open. Her ears feel like they're being stretched out and all the color drains from Neil's face. This must be it. This must be a woge. She snarls at Neil and he backs away from her, stumbling. She hears Nick yelling something, and hears him and her father approach as she stands over Neil growling. Monroe stands to her side, and he looks fascinated and overjoyed. Sophia inhales and exhales slowly, and everything retracts, being pulled back into her skin. She looks at her father, and he embraces her. He's crying.

"Daddy?" she asks worriedly. Nick helps his son up, but he looks stunned at what he just saw. "Daddy, what's going on?"

"Honey, you're a Weiss-Blutbad!"

"You mean she was supposed to do that?" Nick asked, sounding awestruck. Sophia was starting to get a little freaked out.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" she asked, frightened. Monroe wiped his eyes and breathes in to calm himself. Sophia breathes with him.

"You're a white wolf. You sprouted white fur like your Mom does, and your hair turned white and shiny… oh, honey, you were beautiful!"

"You were scary." Neil mutters, and Sophia shoots him a Look.

"Then don't make me do it again."

"Guys!" Monroe rolls his eyes. "Anyway, the first Blutbaden were said to be Weiss-Blutbaden. Today they are very rare, but they are always destined for great things. This explains so much, actually…" The Blutbad trails off, and lifts his daughter into his arms and nuzzles her cheek. She throws her arms around his neck and nuzzles him back, and she knows that if they had tails, they would both be wagging.

"Do you think Mom will like it?" the child asks. Monroe kisses her temple and smiles.

"I think she'll love it… but first, why don't we finish murdering some watermelons?" Sophia nods, and he puts her down. She picks up her Kanabo and rests it back on her shoulder. Her leg is no longer bleeding.

"I totally got this."

_Blazing with light_

_Is the whitest and the tallest_

_And the biggest one,_

_All muscled and fine when she runs._

_Mama, there's wolves in the house._

_Mama, I tried to put them out._

_And Mama, I know you're too wise_

_To wait 'til those wolves make nice._

* * *

_Song: Wolves by Phosphorescent. From the album Pride, copyright 2007, Dead Oceans Records. _


	52. Demons

_I've been kicking this song around for a while, and the story finally revealed itself to me... I love when inspiration strikes!_

_As always, I love feedback! I also would love more song suggestions! I love finding new stuff!_

_As always, own nothing..._

* * *

The first few times Monroe heard the song, he didn't really pay it too much attention; it was an indie rock ballad with a steady bass drum beat; the airwaves were full of songs just like it. But one day while sitting in traffic, it came on the radio and he actually listened to the lyrics. That proved to be a poor decision, because he ended up having a complete emotional breakdown sitting in his little Bug trapped in Downtown Portland during rush hour.

_When the days are cold,_

_And the cards all fold,_

_And the saints we see _

_Are all made of gold;_

_When your dreams all fail,_

_And the ones we hail_

_Are the worst of all _

_And the blood's run stale;_

_I wanna hide the truth,_

_I wanna shelter you;_

_But with the beast inside,_

_There's nowhere we can hide._

_No matter what we breed,_

_We still are made of greed._

_This is my kingdom come._

_This is my kingdom come._

_When you feel my heat, _

_Look into my eyes;_

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide. _

_Don't get too close,_

_It's dark inside._

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide._

His fiancée Rosalee was waiting for him at home. His fiancée, who his own parents attempted to eat because they thought she was prey. She knew his parents were much more wild than he, but did she realize the extent to which he had reformed? She was a rehabilitated Jay addict; he was a rehabilitated murderer.

_Curtain's call_

_Is the last of all,_

_When the lights fade out_

_All the sinners crawl._

_So they dug your grave,_

_And the masquerade _

_Will come calling out _

_At the mess you've made._

_Don't want to let you down,_

_But I am hell-bound;_

_Though this is all for you, _

_Don't wanna hide the truth._

_No matter what we breed,_

_We still are made of greed._

_This is my kingdom come._

_This is my kingdom come._

_When you feel my heat, _

_Look into my eyes;_

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide. _

_Don't get too close,_

_It's dark inside._

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide._

He clenched the steering wheel with whitening knuckles and the tears ran hot down his cheeks. He loved her. He really did. But he was such an awful person; could she not see how unworthy he was? She said he was wonderful and sweet… she really had no idea, did she? He wanted to shelter her from his past because it would definitely be back... and she had the right to know about it. She had the right to call off their engagement before she married a monster.

_They say it's what you make;_

_I say it's up to fate._

_It's woven in my soul,_

_I need to let you go._

_Your eyes, they shine so bright;_

_I wanna save that light._

_I can't escape this now_

_Unless you show me how._

Rosalee greets him at the door with a hug. He kisses her desperately, pulling her close to him. He has to tell her, and this may be the last time she lets him hold her. She pulls away and wipes his eyes.

"What's wrong, honey?" She questions; he takes her hands and leads her to the couch. They sit, and she cuddles close to him.

"I need to tell you some things. You need to be able to make an informed decision about the man you're marrying." She nods, and puts her head gently on his shoulder.

Over the next two hours, Rosalee sits quietly as Monroe tells her everything. She recognizes some of the things he says when he talks in his sleep. All the while, she holds his hand and gently nuzzles his shoulder. He yells. He smacks himself. He cries. Finally, he finishes, openly weeping, and he looks into her eyes. She sees a broken man, laid bare to her judgment; but she also sees a man who is not as bad as he imagines he is, as bad as he once was. She knows he has changed. She gently pulls his head down to rest on her shoulder and simply whispers into his ear.

"Okay." He sniffles, and wipes his eyes on her shoulder like a child.

"Are you sure?" he asks. She nods, and gently kisses his temple.

"Let's make a deal. I promise to keep you from reverting to the man you were if you promise to keep me from going back to the woman I was. Okay?" He nods into her shoulder.

"Okay. And please, don't tell Nick. Not yet, anyway."

"Deal."

_When you feel my heat, _

_Look into my eyes;_

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide. _

_Don't get too close,_

_It's dark inside._

_It's where my demons hide,_

_It's where my demons hide._

* * *

_Song: Demons by Imagine Dragons. From the album Night Visions, copyright 2011, Interscope Records._


	53. Wish You Were Here

_So you guys want more of the twins? More of the twins you shall have! I'm sorry I haven't been updating as much as I'd like, but I've been really busy. I make my first trip to Disney World in LESS THAN A WEEK ASDFHJKLASDHJKLSAJSSJSJHJFSHF! And I have a lot to do in that time. I'm also working on a pretty involved past life smut story. Involving pirates. Because I can. I do have a song for it as well, so hopefully both the clean and smut-tastic versions will be posted before I leave._

_As always, I appreciate all reviews, suggestions, and song requests._

_And, also as always, I own nothing._

* * *

_So, so you think you can tell_

_Heaven from Hell? _

_Blue skies from pain?_

_Can you tell a green field _

_From a cold steel rail?_

_A smile from a veil? _

_Do you think you can tell?_

_Did they get you to trade_

_Your heroes for ghosts?_

_Hot ashes for trees?_

_Hot air for a cool breeze?_

_Cold comfort for change?_

_Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war_

_For a lead role in a cage?_

_How I wish, how I wish you were here._

_We're just two lost souls _

_Swimming in a fish bowl,_

_Year after year._

_Running over the same old ground,_

_What have we found?_

_The same old fears._

_Wish you were here._

Everyone in the Calvert/Monroe household was absolutely miserable. Week-old twins Kelly and Keith were proving to be much more difficult babies than their older sister, Sophia. Both infants seemed absolutely terrified of their father, and would shriek in panic whenever he held them, refusing to quiet until safely absconded in their mother's embrace. Sophia fared no better, and the three-year-old now refused to go anywhere near her siblings. Their pediatrician, Doctor Honig, told them that the baby Fuchsbau would eventually realize that their Blutbaden father and sister weren't going to hurt them, but it may take time. Rosalee was physically exhausted from the seemingly constant feedings, and emotionally exhausted watching her husband and daughter's sadness at not being able to help without causing a storm of terrified noise. Rosalee found herself wishing for Freddy. If only he were still here in Portland to help... But she knew that if Freddy were still here, she wouldn't be. She would still be in Seattle, probably alone, without her loving husband or beautiful children. Amazing how those kinds of tradeoffs work sometimes…

Then, on Thursday morning, Rosalee awoke to a quiet house. No screaming. Well, it was quiet, but not silent. Strains of music flowed from the room next door, the nursery. She pulled the covers off and followed the sound. She found Monroe, sitting between the cribs with Sophia in his lap. He was brushing the little girl's hair as he sang along with the record player next to him. The twins were watching the scene, seemingly so hypnotized by the music and the motion they forgot to be frightened. Rosalee recognized the record as being Pink Floyd; they were one of Freddy's favorite bands. She smiled, and Sophia looked up.

"Hi, Mommy!" the child said brightly, smiling at her mother. Monroe looked up and smiled as well.

"Hi, guys. What's going on?"

"Well, Soph said a man named Freddy was in her dreams last night, and he showed her an album that he said the twins would like. And here we are." Sophia stood, picked up the record sleeve and padded over to her mother. The album bore a familiar image of two men in suits shaking hands, one of the men engulfed in flames. She knew that album well. _Wish You Were Here_.

"Did Freddy say anything else?" she asked the child, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"He said to tell you that everything would be okay, and he and Papa are watching over all of us."

Rosalee dropped to her knees and embraced her little girl, kissing her on the top of her head. At that moment, the album's side ended, and, as if on cue, both babies started to cry. Monroe deftly flipped the record, and as soon as the needle hit the wax, the babies quieted once more. Rosalee walked over to the cribs, kissed her husband's forehead, and picked up Keith. It was time for breakfast.

* * *

_Song: Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. From the album Wish You Were Here, copyright 1975, Columbia Records._


	54. Hopeless Wanderer

_A pirate past life. Because I can. Full, smut-tastic version may be found in _Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno. _Enjoy!_

_As always, love hearing from my readers!_

_I own nothing but a pirate fetish._

* * *

**1717, somewhere in the Caribbean**

_You heard my voice. I came out of the woods by choice._

_Shelter also gave their shade, but in the dark I have no name._

_So leave that click in my head,_

_And I will remember the words that you said._

_Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart,_

_But I was sure we could see a new start._

_So when your hope's on fire_

_But you know your desire;_

_Don't hold a glass over the flame,_

_Don't let your heart grow cold, _

_I will call you by name;_

_I will share your road._

Lieutenant Benjamin Harrington sat on the deck of the Starling in the dark, looking up at the stars over the Caribe. The Englishman was alone except for his flask. Two days from now, they would make port back in Jamaica, and he would have shore leave. Meaning he would have to go home. Back to Anne. Ben took another deep, miserable swig. Anne. As his head was back, he saw a shooting star. He wished that he would never have to go back to her. He wished for a grand adventure that would sweep him away from Jamaica and out to sea. Little did he know where the events of the next morning would take him.

_But hold me fast, hold me fast_

_'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer._

_And hold me fast, hold me fast_

_'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer._

In the morning, the alarm bells sounded, calling all hands to the deck. The Starling was coming upon a disabled ship; its colors were bound in such a way that nobody was really sure from whence it hailed; that didn't matter. The Captain ordered his First Lieutenant, a man named Mitchell, to organize a party to assist as he had Ben, his Second Lieutenant to bring the ship in closer. There was still a crew aboard the other ship, and they were waving their arms and calling out, but their words were lost to the wind. The Starling came up beside the disabled ship; a boy in the rigging of the other ship pulled a rope, and the ship's colors, tied to signal distress, fell open. Ben felt his heart drop as he saw a pirate's flag reveal itself, a red banner with black skull and a black flower. It was a trap, and they were about to be boarded. He unsheathed his sword and prepared to fight as a grappling hook landed beside him.

The ensuing battle was a loud, chaotic mess of clashing metal and gun smoke. Ben killed a pair men before a third slashed his face. While he clutched his forehead to try to stop the bleeding, he heard a click in his ear. A pistol being cocked.

"On your knees." Ben had no choice but comply. He couldn't risk showing his true self.

_I wrestled long with my youth._

_We tried so hard to live in the truth;_

_But please don't tell me all is fine,_

_When I lose my head, I lose my spine._

Ben's wrists were bound behind him, and he was led across a gangplank onto the pirate vessel. He wondered who the Captain was. Each captain had their own style when it came to taking prisoners. Actually, this might be the answer he was looking for; he wished to never have to return to Anne, and his wish may be granted.

He was roughly shoved to his knees on the deck of the ship next to the other survivors. He realized he, as a Lieutenant, was the highest-ranking survivor; it was time to make peace with his possible fate.

The large African man looked over the prisoners before speaking in a loud clear voice.

"You have fought bravely; but your fate now lies with the Master of this ship. I present the Black Rose of Cartagena."

Ben felt his pulse race. He had heard of the Black Rose of Cartagena. Female pirates were few and far between, as pirates were a superstitious lot, but Black Rose's reputation was one of the strangest: when the Black Rose attacked, the highest-ranking survivor would be taken to her bedchamber, where the fate of the crew would be determined in a most unseemly manner. If the man pleased her, she would let the survivors go with their ship minus their cargo and riches; if not, the man would be marooned, and his surviving crew given an ultimatum: be marooned with him or serve her growing fleet. She was said to have very strict standards, and very few men had been able to satisfy her. He was so lost in thought that he did not realize the Pirate Mistress was standing in front of him until a hand lifted his chin.

Ben found himself looking up at a gorgeous woman; she had soft brown eyes, tanned skin, and shoulder-length brown hair with a gentle curl, tied back with a red scarf. She wore a number of small gold hoop earrings in each ear, a loose-fitting red shirt, black bodice, black trousers, and high black boots. The sun blazed off her bare shoulders. No, this might not be so bad after all; his skin seemed to warm in the places her fingertips touched. She turned his head, examining the cut on his forehead. Finally she spoke.

"Clean him up a little, then take him to my quarters. Put the rest in the Hold in anticipation of my decision." The pirate turned and walked away. Ben was lifted to his feet, and was taken in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder, and watched her bottom as she walked; there was a movement to her hips he found mesmerizing. He felt something in his veins he had not felt in many years: a surge of lust. He knew it was improper, as a married man and a sailor for England... but he could not help himself. His reverie was broken as his head was shoved into a barrel of water as if he were a drunk, and then his face roughly scrubbed with a cloth. Something was applied to the cut on his forehead that stung, but he could tell it stopped the bleeding. He was then led to the captain's quarters.

_So leave that click in my head,_

_And I won't remember the words that you said._

_You brought me out from the cold._

_Now, how I long, how I long to grow old._

The pirate lady's quarters were fairly simple: a large looking-glass, a closet, a divider screen, a bedside table, and a large, sumptuous bed. It was clear where her priorities lie. Ben's bonds were undone, and his coat and shirt removed. He was shoved onto the bed, into the soft red and purple material. His wrists were again bound, but this time with ropes that came through holes in the headboard. His eye followed the ropes, and they went to the ceiling, where they joined to form a single rope that hung in the area over his groin. He had an inkling of what it was for, but was not entirely sure. Ben closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. She was not entirely human; he had never met a fox Wesen before. The male scents were all quite faded; she had not had any conquests recently. He thought again of her bare shoulders and her small gold hoops, and he had the strange, animal desire to lick her all over. Anne had once made him feel like that, but was always cold to his advances until one night she finally gave in. He immediately regretted the encounter, and that should have been the end of it; however, she was soon found to be with child, and her father, the Magistrate, had demanded he marry her. Marry they did, but Anne was still cold and distant. The child was stillborn, and Anne drifted further away. Ben heard gossip that she took comfort with the horse grooms; he took comfort in long sailings and hard work.

He was brought out of his reveries by the door opening, then closing, and a bolt sliding into place. The pirate queen lit a candle, and approached, looking over the man bound to her bed. She then went behind the screen, taking the candle with her. Ben's eyes were drawn to the light, and he watched this shadow of a woman undress; He felt his loins straining against fabric as he saw her divest herself of the boots, then the trousers, then the bodice, and then the red shirt. She then started brushing out her hair, turning her body to a side profile, allowing her prisoner to appreciate her figure. She had good, womanly hips, a trim waist, and perky bosoms. She finally stepped out from behind the screen and approached the man with the candle in hand.

"And what is your name, sirrah?" Ben could not answer; the words would not come. In the glow of the candle, the woman stood like a beautiful bronze statue; her hair fell over her breasts like a painting of a mermaid, and every inch of his body was calling out to be closer to her, to feel her rub herself against him. His manhood especially stretched toward her. She climbed up onto the bed, gingerly balancing the candle.

"I said, what is your name, sirrah?" She tipped the candle to the side, and melted wax poured onto his bare chest. He gasped. If felt strange, but it excited him further.

"Ben. Uh, Benjamin Harrington, if it please the lady." She pressed her finger into the cooling wax, and rolled it into a small ball. He smelled her need growing as she looked him over again. She checked his bonds, placed her candle on the table, and slowly began to remove his trousers. She smiled at the size of the organ waiting at attention on the other side of the fabric.

"Well, Lieutenant, I must offer my appreciation for your enthusiasm. Many men of higher rank than you have failed to perform because they couldn't summon themselves. This raises many questions for me, but questions will wait, savvy?" The man nodded. She felt a little confused; here was a man, likely married with children, being threatened by a dangerous woman... Many men of higher rank had cowered before her, begging her to leave them chaste. Yet this one was incredibly excited about the prospect of having to satisfy her. Not only that, but his manhood put the other men to shame in both length and girth. She also found herself inexplicably drawn to him, not just wanting to touch and be touched by him, but wanting to talk to him, learn his life story, and create more stories with him. She pushed those thoughts away. She sounded like a child dreaming of true love. She needed sex and power and to dominate this man and the seas of the Caribbean; thoughts of love would only distract her. But the look in his eyes when he'd first seen her… when she gazed upon him, a spark within her was ignited, almost as if her soul recognized him...

_So when your hope's on fire_

_But you know your desire;_

_Don't hold a glass over the flame,_

_Don't let your heart grow cold, _

_I will call you by name;_

_I will share your road._

The Pirate Queen had her way with the man; at some point, her enthusiasm overwhelmed him and he asked her for a kiss. She complied, and he responded by breaking his bonds and running his hands over her body. After they finished, he looked sheepishly at her.

"Sorry I broke your ropes…"

"I needed new ones anyway. Well, Lieutenant Harrington, you have succeeded where very few men have… you and your crew may leave once my men help themselves to the spoils." There was a note of sadness to her voice, and she looked down at the rumpled sheets, running her fingers along the fabric next to his leg..

"Actually, if it would please the Lady, I would like to negotiate the terms of my surrender." She looked up, questioning. "I would like to offer myself in exchange for some of the goods carried aboard the Starling." She smiled at him. She was radiant by the glow of the candle.

"So you're willing to abandon your post and the Crown, become a fugitive, and stay aboard as the prisoner of a Pirate Queen? I warn you, I can be a harsh mistress."

"I am, and I understand."

"And you would answer my every command? Follow my every order? To the depths of Davy Jones's locker?"

"Yes, mistress." Her fingers moved to his leg.  
"I agree to your terms. Your men shall be released with half of their holdings intact. I will take you on as a regular crew member; we put to port roughly a week hence, and I plan on taking on a new crew. You have a week to earn my loyalty and trust, or I shall cast ye out with the bilge." She stood, and put on a dressing gown. Ben had to admit he was quite sad to see her cover herself again. She walked to the door. "I must speak to Tobin, then I will be back. I will have the cook bring us some supper here. Please make yourself comfortable. Welcome aboard the Deception." She slid the bolt open, and left, closing the door behind her. Ben covered himself with the silky sheets, and laid back on the large pillow; looks like he was getting his adventure after all.

_But hold me fast, hold me fast_

_'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer._

_And hold me fast, hold me fast_

_'cause I'm a hopeless wanderer._

_I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under._

_I will learn, I will learn to love the skies I'm under,_

_The skies I'm under._

* * *

_Song: Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford and Sons. From the album Babel, copyright 2012, Island Records._


End file.
